


The Most Important Minute in an Hour

by Ireallyenjoyforgetting



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anti-Social Character, Arranged Marriage, Autistic Character, Autistic Female Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Child Abuse, Cigarettes, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Multiverse, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Swearing, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ireallyenjoyforgetting/pseuds/Ireallyenjoyforgetting
Summary: Pandora Rosier has difficulty dealing with things most other people never seem to notice. When she learns her father has agreed to a courtship contract to cover his debts, she needs to run off the boy she’s been promised to and take control of her own fate.Her familial birthright is chronomancy and she's determined to use everything within her power to set her own path. And she finds her penchant for details to be invaluable.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Pandora Rosier/Rabastan Lestrange, Pandora Rosier/Rabastan Lestrange/ Severus Snape, Rabastan Lestrange/Severus Snape
Comments: 23
Kudos: 35





	1. A time to cast away stones

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> This is not canon-compliant. I repeat. Not. Canon. Compliant.
> 
> I'm writing this because I want to see autistic characters in fiction and since I haven't seen many other accurate portrayals in the fandom, I figured I'd give it a shot. I'm autistic. This represents experiences similar to my own and in no way attempts to represent the experience of all autistic individuals. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thanks to all the folx I've bounced ideas off of and helped to organize the absolute mess that this story was into a moderately cohesive narrative.
> 
> I don't own any of the characters I'm playing with here. I'm not making any money off of this. I'm just playing within a world of characters written by someone else.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5.,” Pandora ticked off on her fingers how many outfits she had for times when she wouldn't be in class or uniform. She stuffed a few extra pairs of socks into the sides, stopped, then arranged them so they formed a neat line at the front of the trunk. She shook her head and separated them to evenly stack onto the sides. 

“What would you have me do woman? The papers are signed,” her father rumbled in the hallway. Pandora could hear her mother’s heels click-clacking along behind him as he strode past her room. The cracked door blew open more with the force of her mother's robes sweeping along the hall. 

“Worthless! She’s going to be in a worthless marriage, just as I’ve been these last 30 years. A worthless marriage with a worthless man!”

Mother stormed after him and Pandora ducked her head down as she crossed to close the door, listening to the argument, surmising it was about her - as most arguments between her mother and father had been lately. 

“I’ve been negotiating a match for years, and you just throw her away. Imbecile! I married a worthless, useless, imbecile. Merlin help me, I will make you regret this,” Mother screeched at him.

“Just one more regret to add to the pile. Right next to you, my beloved harpy,” father rounded on her. Pandora’s eyes widened as his hand raised threateningly on her mother. As he prepared to backhand Mother, his eyes met Pandora’s from where she peaked out of her room. He drew in a deep breath and lowered his hand, turning away.

“As I thought,” her mother taunted at the retreating form of her father. “A coward. As always.”

Her father paused his stride a moment, his shoulders tensing, before continuing down the hall and turning the corner. Pandora ducked behind her door as her mother whirled around to stomp back the way she’d come. 

Pandora clutched her sweater in one hand and brought the fingertips of her other to her lips, chewing at the nails. She carefully closed her door, and paced her room. She locked the door and made her way over to her large closet, where she closed the door and sat herself on the pillow she kept at the farthest corner. She pulled her heavy quilt over herself and hugged her knees, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.

Think. Think. Think.

She had to figure out why Mother would be so upset at the match Father had made. Her mother’s primary occupation involved preparing and matching Pandora with the perfect husband to increase their standing in pureblood society. And while Mother seemed to think that was James Potter, she’d yet to solidify a contract with his mother after trying for at least the last three years . And so her father had taken back control of his daughter’s future and apparently signed a courtship contract with someone her mother didn’t approve of. Initially, Pandora had been grateful for Father giving up the possibility of a Potter match. Though they’d practically been raised together, being their closest neighbors, James Potter was an utter prat. He was bad enough when they were young, but since he’d teamed up with Sirius Black, he’d gotten ten times worse. He made her life miserable at school, and only slightly less so during the summers. Thankfully he’d taken a liking to a girl in his own house at school and used more and more of his time pursuing her the last few years. 

Once she’d managed to collect herself before having a “fit” as her family called them, she could think well enough to go ask Evan if he knew anything more. Her brother was the only family member who actually seemed to understand her and tried to make things easier instead of harder. Father loved her, but he simply didn’t know what to do when she was agitated. Evan would know exactly what to do and how to help. Thankfully, he was home from his apprenticeship in Belgium for several days. He always wanted to see her off to school, even if he wasn’t joining her any longer. 

Pandora came out of her room, peaked down the hallway and quietly made her way down the stairs at the back of the manor. The servant’s stairs ran in an unadorned stairwell from the top of the manor to the basement with a door exiting out into the pantry in the basement kitchen. She always preferred it to the grand staircase in the main house. It was quieter, mostly unused and she could generally avoid any run-ins with Mother. It’s not that Mother didn’t know it was there, but she wouldn’t deign to use the servant’s passageways that ran along the house like a maze. Pandora had spent many days of her youth skipping through the maze of secreted paths, following elves from one end of the house to the other and finding nooks and crannies to read in.

Once, mother had discovered one of her “nests” in a closet near the library and she’d beaten her till her back bled from the belt marks. She let her know in no uncertain terms that it was unbecoming of a lady to make nests like a rat in the walls. After that, Pandora only made her hiding places comfortable in places she could be sure her mother would never check. The passageways that ran parallel to the main hallways were perfect for that, and the elves loved her too much to betray her to her mother. 

She hopped the last few steps down to the landing and made her way through the kitchen, nicking a biscuit one of the elves was taking out of the oven as she passed. She tossed it between her hands to avoid burning her fingers and pushed the back door open to walk down the path to the greenhouse. She smiled as she passed the stables and saw her favorite hippogriff Daisy grazing in the field next to it. She stuffed the sweet in her mouth and walked to Daisy, curtseying to her and bowing her head. Daisy nuzzled her beak into Pandora’s hands and rumbled her approval as she stroked her mein. 

Pandora curtsied again to the proud beast and walked the rest of the way to the large greenhouse. Her father had increased the size and variety of their gardens after he witnessed Evan’s affinity for plants and talent with growing potions ingredients. She could hear the gramophone play as she pulled open the glass door. She stayed in the shadow of a tall palm as she watched him dance between the rows of raised plant beds. He watered the plants as he spun and glided through the motions of a dance she’d seen Fred Astaire do. One of their favorite things to do when they were younger was sneak off to the nearest muggle town on Sundays when they played black and white musicals in a double feature. It wasn’t entirely appropriate for pureblood children, but it was the secret they shared, their love for muggle music and movies. 

She snuck up on him as he turned away, and stuck her hands up in position. As he turned back to her, he pulled back briefly, startled before a grin stretched wide across his face. He sat the watering can down on one of the beds and arched an eyebrow at her before taking her in his arms, one hand at her waist and led her through the foxtrot. She laughed brightly as he dipped her backward and pulled her up into his arms only to spin her out to the tips of his fingers and back again. They swayed together and he spun her out one last time before they both collapsed in a fit of laughter onto a bed of hay along the back wall. 

As they both caught their breath, she clasped Evan’s hand and squeezed. She wished they could stay like this forever and never have to deal with everything that came with growing up. Evan was already out in the world, working on his apprenticeship to become a Master Herbologist. He’d left her here two years ago. She knew it was inevitable, but it still felt like her only friend in the world had abandoned her. As her breathing slowed, Evan looked her in the eyes and asked, “What’s going on Panda?”

She looked down and pulled her knees up to her chest. It was only August, but the dampness of Northern Ireland seeped into her bones. She’d run out of the house without stockings and her bare toes were now covered in wet earth. She winced, knowing Mother would reprimand her later if she caught her without shoes outside again. Evan cast a quick tergeo at her feet and crossed his arms over his knees as he sat up, waiting patiently for her to talk about whatever was bothering her. 

Pandora kept her gaze on her toes as she popped her jaw. One, two, three times.  
“Who’s Father promised me to?”

Evan closed his eyes and squeezed her knee. “It’s going to be alright. I’m going to make sure you’re alright,” he said.

A lump formed in her throat as she waited for him to say more. 

He took a deep breath and gave her a lopsided smile.

“ Lestrange. He’s promised you to Rabastan Lestrange.”

It felt like the air had been punched out of her. Her chin quivered as she stared back at her brother. “What?” she breathed. Evan looked down at his feet and pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“Father promises me it’s a good match. I know the stories, we all do. Though, I really don’t know much about Rabastan personally. I never paid much attention to him at school. I don’t think Father would sell you off to a complete psychopath. Even if he does have very few options right now,” he said.

“But,” she started. Pandora took a breath to steady her voice.  
“But Bella....Rodolphus. They’ll keep me prisoner in that house of theirs. They’re the worst kind of purists. I’ll never be able to go into the muggle world again. Never listen to music or watch Ginger Rogers dance. They’ll keep me there until I’ve given them heirs and then either lock me up if I’m lucky, or if I’m not....,” she shook her head, trying to hold back her tears. “And if Rabastan is anything like his brother, my life will be short and miserable for however long I am alive.” 

“We will figure something out Panda,” he said.

At that moment, they heard the door bang open at the front of the greenhouse and Mother came in directing one of the gardening elves on which flowers to set the table with that evening. Evan shot up, dusting his trousers off and casting a refreshing charm on himself and Pandora. Pandora tried to fix her hair as her mother made her way toward them. Mother’s eyes narrowed as she saw Pandora, scanning her appearance up and down. She scowled as she reached into Pandora’s white-blonde hair to pluck out a piece of straw. Mother flicked her wand and Pandora’s braided hair atop her head righted itself into an impeccable style once more. A second flick of her wand sent a stinging hex to the side of her neck. She winced in pain as she gazed down at her feet.

“Mm sorry Mother,” she mumbled.

“Don’t mumble dear Dorie,” Mother said. She pursed her lips and her face looked as though she smelled something foul; a constant reminder of her disapproval for her youngest child. 

“Come dearest, we need to check your trunk again. I need to see which ensembles you’ve chosen for your day wear,” she said, turning away. She strode back out of the greenhouse without waiting for her daughter. Evan gave Pandora a small smile of sympathy as she rolled her eyes dramatically and ran to catch up to their mother. 

\--------------------------

Dinner that evening was a tense affair. While Essy, Pandora's personal elf, had the kitchen elves prepare all of her favorite foods, she couldn’t enjoy the meal. Her mother sent barb after barb at Father, while Evan gave her meaningful glances. Shared jokes only the two of them could tell with a look. Pandora covered her mouth with her napkin as she hid her smile at his efforts. 

Pierre Rosier abruptly stood, slamming his hands down onto the table. He glared across the long table and spoke in a deathly low tone.

“This is finished, Euphonia. Leave it.”

In all her years, she’d seen her father rise to her mother’s bait a mere handful of times. And in as many days, he’d practically raged at her. She loved her father and would miss him but would not be upset to be out of this house tomorrow. The emotion felt overwhelming. Like it would capsize her tenuous hold on her ability to function at any moment. Pandora set her utensils down with shaky hands as she averted her gaze to her lap. She could hear the dining room door rattle against its hinges and her mother’s quick clack-clack followed her father from the room. 

Taking slow breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, Pandora startled as Evan knelt next to her chair. He took her hands between his and gave her a thoughtful look. He stood and tugged her hand for him to walk with her. They left the dining room, and wound their way through the manor to the library. The library available to guests and acquaintances. The public library. It appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary, but large enough to suit their family’s pedigree. Through the main doors, they walked past the shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling and through to the back corner of the room. Halfway up the circular stairwell to the second floor, there was a small shelf fitted to the curve of the wall. Evan pulled at the third volume of “Goblin Accounting Practices of the 12th through 14th Centuries”, and the wall slid away to reveal a small chamber of cherry wood paneling and dark toile wallpaper. 

The pair stepped in and Pandora could feel her breath evening out as she leaned back against the paneling. Evan tapped his wand against an illustration of a cow and milkmaid, and the chamber lurched downward. A few moments later, the front panel opened again and they exited into a vast room of row upon row of books. They stretched up nine feet high, leaving no space between shelf and ceiling. The lamps along the pathways blinked on as they walked with purpose through the room. Evan turned down one row and made several quick turns through small antechambers and sitting rooms. The maze of the library never slowing his determined path. 

Pandora furrowed her brow as they approached a little-used room that stored one of the private collections from her mother’s family. Never having let go of her hand, Evan pulled her through the door and approached the shelf with her arriere grand-mere’s journal. 

“What are we doing Evan?” Pandora asked tiredly. He’d been pestering her about studying these journals for at least the last year. Mother had forbidden it. Possibly out of spite for having been skipped in their familial magical gifts. But Pandora hadn’t had the energy to fight her on it thus far. He pulled out the journal and held it out to her. 

“You need a project,” he said.

“I have a project,” she replied. “I always have a project.”  
“Yes, but translating ancient Elvish wives tales into English isn’t exactly the sort of all-consuming project that actually helps keep your mind occupied. It’s a distraction. This is a project. You need to learn something Panda,” he said as he pushed the journal into her chest. 

“You have the gift. You have to learn how to use it sooner or later, why not sooner? It will give you something to center yourself on this year. We’ll figure out what to do about your contract, but there isn’t much we can do until I talk to Father. And we both know he needs some time to calm down before he’s in any frame of mind to listen to alternatives.”

“Mother will send me a howler if she sees this missing,” she gestured to the book in her arms. 

“Mother never comes down here any longer. And arriere grand-mere left them to you. They belong to you Pandora. You’re the last in our line with chronomancy. They’re no good to anyone else anyway,” he said.

“Well, I suppose we’d better get back up there before Mother runs out of wine, gets bored, and looks for one of us to berate,” he said winking at her. They wound their way back through the labyrinthine stacks and rooms until they exited the depths of the Rosier library. It was just in time as they heard Mother bellowing for one of the elves in the corridor just outside the library. Evan peaked out of the door and motioned for Pandora to run the other direction for the servant’s stairwell. He went after their mother to convince her to retire to her rooms and sleep off her rage. 

\---------------------

Mother adored Evan. Anything he asked, she was putty in his hands. However, Evan couldn’t show his affection for his only sister too readily in her presence, or Mother would increase her abuse tenfold on Pandora. The best he could manage for her was to distract and deter. It was one of the reasons he tried to come home as much as possible over the summers, even after he’d started his apprenticeship. 

Pandora snuck back to her room, smiling at the elves she passed in the tight servants’ corridors. Once she was in the relative safety of her own room, she settled on her bed and glanced through the best resource she possessed on learning her family magic on her own. There were many more journals in the library, but her arriere grand-mere had indexed and sorted through centuries of notes left by ancestors. The culmination of her life’s work was this journal, in which she’d outlined the most helpful ritual circles, runic combinations and arithmetic equations to access the full depth of the family’s power. While her arriere grand-mere wasn’t the most powerful chronomancer in the family’s history, she’d done a truly exceptional job of preparing all the teachings for those who would come after her. 

Pandora’s chronomancy was a point of pride and contention in equal measures in her life. The Rosiers were the last remaining line of the Melitene’s and the only surviving chronomancers known on the European Continent. Not that many did know. The various ministries of not only Great Britain, but all of Western and much of Eastern Europe had heavily restricted anything to do with time-magic generations ago. Only through closely guarded family secrets had any chronomancers been able to keep the precious magic alive at all. 

Traditionally, the magic tended to skip generations. Because her arriere grand-mere was a chronomancer, it was assumed that Euphonia Melitene would have the family magic. However, the greatest bitterness of her mother’s life was that it skipped over her and landed in Pandora instead. Out of spite, her mother refused to allow her access to any knowledge she might use to actually practice her magic until she’d reached the age of majority. While Evan was correct in his assertion that the journals were rightfully hers, Pandora really didn’t want to push her mother any more than necessary. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting to fight for what she wanted. It was often easiest to simply go along with Mother’s wishes and hope for the day she’d be out from under her control. 

Only now, it seemed she’d simply be exchanging one set of chains for another. The Lestranges were mad. Everyone said she was mad. But her mind only seemed to want to hurt her. The Lestranges took joy in torture, pain and blood. It was known that Bella had tried many blood rituals to produce an heir for the eldest son, Rodolphus. And while it would have given Rodolphus and Bellatrix the leverage to take over the family’s affairs if they held the next generation in their arms, she seemed unable to conceive. Conveniently for them, and rather inconveniently for the elder Lestranges, there was an accident involving a faulty portkey that resulted in Rodolphus inheriting the Lestrange mantle several years ago. 

Since then, the blood-purist rhetoric coming from Lord Lestrange had gotten progressively louder. He had gained a sizeable following in the Wizengamot. It made the authoritarian, and isolationist policies of Grindelwald seem positively tame by comparison. 

All things considered, Pandora could understand the logic in why her father had signed a contract with Rodolphus Lestrange for his younger brother and ward. She simply hated it. Her mother had controlled her every action for as long as she could recall. And now the Lestranges with their blood-lust and muggle hatred would hold the keys to her fate. She couldn’t let it happen. She would have to fix this.

Somehow.

Pandora curled into herself and pulled a quilt over her shoulders, not even bothering to change into bedclothes. Tears escaped her eyes as she clutched her ancestors’ collective knowledge in her arms. The threads of a plan formed in her mind as sleep claimed her moments later.


	2. In the midnight moonlight I'll be walking a long and lonely mile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to school. All the anxiety that comes with changed circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying y'all. It's been years since I wrote consistently, so writing vs drawing takes some seriously concerted effort. But this is a story I really want to tell as much as I can. Even if it's just a character study. Because I want my autistic characterization to be as realistic as possible, and if my plot suffers for it, so be it. I'll do my best folx.
> 
> Chapter is pretty much un-proofed.

The morning Pandora boarded the train to Hogwarts for her sixth year, she could barely keep anything down. Her mother, thankfully, had kept to her rooms, sleeping off her tirade from the previous day. She took the opportunity to take her tea in the kitchen at the small work table the elves often ate at. She listened to their chatter and sifted through her newly acquisitioned journals. After scanning some of the pages, she thought it prudent to gather several before her trip, being unable to re-supply herself before Yule. Though she was mildly sure her father had seen her slipping out of the great library, she doubted he would mention anything of it. 

Pierre Rosier encouraged her pursuit of knowledge. Even as a child, she was encouraged to seek out answers to whatever question she could conjure. He felt confident in her judgement and wisdom to ask for his assistance in any matters too dangerous for her young mind. Giving her free reign of the Great Library had the added benefit of encouraging her to broaden her knowledge. He knew from the moment she became capable of exerting her freewill, that Pandora was uniquely stubborn in her desire for independence. She refused help where she thought she could manage on her own. Which led her to learn languages of her own accord and study subjects that would further her understanding in all of her specific interests. 

She was continuing the inheritance of her bloodlines. It had been a coup for her father to marry her mother, combining two great houses of Melitene and Rosier, practically doubling the size of the Great Library. Generations of closely guarded knowledge were amassed in the expansive rooms below Rosier Manor. Pandora Rosier was the culmination of generations of political maneuvering. She was gifted, with a fascination for esoteric and rare magic, and cursed with idiosyncrasies that made her difficult to love by many. She was her father’s pride and her mother’s bane. 

Pandora made her way from the kitchens, only managing to keep down tea and a bit of dry scone, and settled into a plush brocade chair in the receiving room. The foot-elf had placed her trunks at the floo and she read her arriere grand-mere’s account of her family history as she waited for her father and brother.

_ The primary treasure of the Rosiers resides in their expansive, ancestral library. Unlike the nouveau riche Malfoys,who emigrated from France following the upheaval of the French Revolution, the Rosiers were established in Britain during a Norman invasion. Branches of the family remained in France up until the Huguenot Protestant refugee surge of the 17th century, and much of the more isolated branches resided in the Savoie(formerly Auvergne) region till current day. Preferring their ancestral lands, and remaining hidden in plain sight, they continued to mingle with the local non-magical folk.  _

_ The name Rosier has a long history of exploration. Their people have long been spread across the world from one of the earliest expeditions to the Colonies, to the penal colony of Australia. Wherever unique knowledge could be found, there too would be found the Rosiers. Descended from Hannibal(considered to be one of the most influential wizards of military history both magical and non), they considered it their duty to guide the regions under their influence to peace, whether through military conquest or political machination. Though in more recent centuries, the family has strongly preferred less overt methods of influence. _

_ Through the maternal line, Pandora is descended from Flavia Melitene, of Anatolia - a chief contributor to the Library of Pergamum. Her four times great-grandmother Parvaneh, being at the time the last living heir (and having come from a matrilineal succession), brought with her the massive inheritance of the remnants of the Library of Pergamum when the Melitene family emigrated from France. Contrary to Plutarch’s account, most of the Library’s contents had been secreted away upon its decline, pre-empting its seizure by Marc Antony. _

_ The Keepers of the Library felt that true power was asserted by a deft dissemination of knowledge. To that end, they streamlined the production of parchment, thereby reducing the dependence on Egyptian papyrus and allowing for more efficient intellectual influence. A common joke among the family refers to their primary claim to fame being that they were so detested among the most fervent followers of Christ, that they are mentioned in the Book of Revelation. The humuor of the Melitene family skews to the sardonic. Nevertheless, their ancestral foothold in Bergama, in the Izmir Province in western Turkey continues to appreciate a peaceful existence among the non-magical inhabitants. Their interest in crafts, arts and sciences, and a detestation of conflict, assists the city’s leaders in remaining largely impartial to regional conflict, though location contributes to that effect greatly as well.  _

_ After a falling out with Callimachus, the wandering poet Apollonius of Rhodes along with his brother Cemil (pronounced Jem-il) and companion Theolonius resided in Anatolia, specifically the Library of Pergamum, for some years. Apollonius later returned to Alexandria, while Cemil and Theolonius remained. They helped in the early days of the Library of Pergamum to recruit scholars dissatisfied with the politics of Alexandria. _

Pandora looked up from the notes as her father entered the room, fiddling with his pocket watch - an affectation he’d inherited from his own father. Something itched at the back of her brain and she mulled over the odd syntax of the journal. It spoke of Pandora in the past tense. None of it made sense, and she wondered at the reliability of her arriere grand-mere’s wits, as the journals were written in the last days of her life. 

Pierre was joined by Evan, who saw his own chest, shrunk it to fit into his pocket and shrunk Pandora’s as well. He handed the compact luggage to his sister and crossed to the floo. 

“Well, are we ready?” he asked.

Pandora was pulled from her thoughts and nodded quickly to her brother and looked to see her father motioning for her to proceed into the floo. She steeled herself, threw the powder into the flames and announced her intended location. Her world spun, and she held the back of her gloved hand to her mouth to stop herself retching. She stumbled out onto the train platform and automatically moved to the side to allow her brother and father through. 

As she dusted the floo powder off her burnt umber cashmere cardigan and peter pan collared linen shirt, she heard Evan behind her casting a tergeo on both of them. It was considered impolite for underage wizards and witches to visibly do magic while out of school. Though all the pureblood families she knew took the Ministry regulation as a mere suggestion. The society standard was to simply keep wanded magic to home-use and teach wandless spells to their children as early as capable. 

One of the reasons Grindelwald and Dumbledore's policies had met with such fervor was to mitigate the disparity between traditional magical households and muggleborn and under-privileged half-blood households. The earlier an intervention could be implemented, the better chance a non pureblood child had at integrating into and succeeding in society. There were still those who held antiquated view on blood supremacy, but they did not currently hold the majority. Ariana Dumbledore held considerable sway among society wives, convincing those non-dogmatic purists to educate the muggleborns and simply segregate from the muggles further, rather than attempt to eradicate non purebloods altogether. 

Pandora smoothed the pleats on her houndstooth midi-skirt and squinted in the sunlight of the early afternoon. The train blocked much of the light, but her eyes ached at the intrusion. She reached into her cardigan pocket and produced her small, round sunglasses. She smiled to herself when she placed them on her nose. Though her mother detested them, as they hid her "best features'', Pandora loved them ever since she'd seen John Lennon wear a similar style. She didn't dare tell mother that, as she would definitely have thrown out a "muggle affectation", but she mostly hid them when in her mother's presence and her father never minded, seeing it as a practical solution to preserve her eyesight for many years to come. 

The noise of the platform had yet to grow to an unbearable level, but Pandora itched to make her way to a carriage before she was forced to wade through a crowd or cast a muffliato that might hinder her awareness of her surroundings. So, she hugged her brother and father goodbye.

"It's going to be a good year love," her father assured himself as much as her and patter her cheek. He was always awkward in emotional instances and seeing her off at the platform for the last five years had not made it any less awkward. 

"I promise it's a good match. Just give it a chance eh?" Pierre Rosier looked at his daughter with hopeful, sad eyes. 

"I will father. I'll try," Pandora gave him her best smile and Evan pulled her in for a second hug. 

"Now, don't worry too much, and try to take it easy this year. It's a year for projects. You don't have NEWTS until next year and I want you to just enjoy  _ learning _ this year," he said as he gave her a too-serious expression she couldn't help but giggle at.

"Alright. I'll stick to my project. Promise."

With that, she walked off to the platform where she placed her shrunken trunks into a small locker beneath the train intended for such storage. The elves would tend to it later when the train arrived at the school.

It was getting busier and she started to become flustered as she looked to find the least populated entrance to the train. She located an empty entryway and walked toward it.

"There's pumpkin soup, roast, yorkshires, mash, mushy peas, chocolate biscuits," she furrowed her brow thinking of that evening's feast and planning her meal from the usual menu. "Surely mother wouldn't begrudge me a few chocolate biscuits on a feast night. Perhaps the boy doesn't even bother with what I might eat. Or perhaps he does and that'll run him off quicker," she smirked to herself and gazed at the shoes of those in front of her as she walked up into the train corridor.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a foot appeared directly in front of her. Her eyes widened as she realized she didn’t have time to catch herself. Her vision tilted and she landed on her hands, her left hip colliding solidly with the hard, tiled floor. Quickly, Pandora smoothed her skirt down from where it landed far too indecently in her fall. Any hope she had that her fall was an accident was dashed as she looked up from the floor to see the devilish grin of her own personal watchdog and tormentor. James Potter.

They had been neighbors, or as neighborly as manor houses could be, growing up and all his childhood playfulness had given way to something more cruel. She had once thought they were friends. But now she realized that Mother and Mrs Potter being friends meant he had become her playmate by default. As soon as they were at Hogwart’s, he cast her aside for more interesting mates. She’d been hoping he might have finally lost interest in teasing her as he ran around the castle with his merry band of trouble-makers. But it seemed that was not to be. 

“Clumsy, as usual eh Dory?” 

James smiled down at her in what might have been a handsome grin if she didn’t know the cruelty lurking beneath. He stuck his hand out as if to help her up. She balanced on one hand as she reached her left arm up to him. Their fingers grasped just long enough for her to put some of her weight onto him. In a predictable bit of prattishness, he released her hand and mock-gasped as she landed on the carpeted hallway again.

  
  


“Oh, Dory. I’m terribly sorry,”he tsk'd.

“Hand slipped right through.” He shook his head with an apologetic grimace.

She looked down at her satchel and tucking it into her stomach, she pulled herself up. Shutting her eyes tight as she turned away from James, she re-assessed how far from the back of the train she was and began counting her steps. She ruminated on what an ass he was to continually use her least favorite nickname and James’ hand pulled at her shoulder, spinning her to face him again. 

“Come on Dory,” he said.“It was just a bit of fun. Promise.”

He seemed genuine and she narrowed her eyes at him. He always seemed genuine. But then he would do it again. She knew he would. Her mouth turned down in a frown and she allowed herself to be pulled into his side as he hugged her shoulders. 

She should pull away. She should make her own way to the cabin. But she really did miss her friend. He could be sweet. Sometimes. When his merry-band wasn’t nearby.

“So what’s on the schedule today Dory?” he asked.He pulled her along with him brightly, as though nothing at all had happened moments ago.

“Find an empty carriage, read, sleep, disembark, eat, read more, sleep,” she said.

“Good old reliable Dory. Always has a plan."

He patted her back and she winced at the contact. It would be impolite to pull away now. He was being friendly again, she could squash down her discomfort if it meant he’d be friendly. Mother would have a fit if she was anything less than polite to James. She half-suspected Mother was still attempting to broker a marriage between the families. 

“Mother asked after you. How was the summer Dory? Didn’t have too many fits?” he asked.

James peered into her eyes and she tried to match his gaze. She had long-since learned if she focused on his nose, she could seem like she was looking him in the eyes. If she looked down too much, she would either get a reprimand from Mother or teasing from James about her fascination with floors.

“No. No James. I’m fine,”she said in a reassuring tone, making sure to raise her voice an octave. She nodded and attempted a smile to emphasize the point. 

“You should come out to the Quidditch tryouts this month,” he smiled wide - it really was a shame he had such a dashing smile.

“I’ll be there. Mother insisted you’re as good as family. And  _ Family supports each other _ ,” she finished in her Madame Rosier voice.

James chuckled and it made Pandora smile shyly. 

“Yes, well...I’d better get settled in. Might need to make acquaintance with my intended. I’m sure you have your friends to meet up with anyway.”

“Oh yeah. That bad business,” James thought for a moment, almost concerned. “I can try to run him off for you if you like Dory?” he cocked an eyebrow at her and waited patiently for her response. 

Pandora raised her eyebrows in surprise at the inquiry. She was accustomed to people making decisions for her, but aside from Evan, no one seemed previously inclined to alter her fate for the better. While she pondered James’s seeming interest in her future, she walked with him down the corridor. 

She gave James a shy, noncommittal shrug and hurried her way down the corridor. She shoved away the part of herself that basked in any boy's attention, even that of her most persistent bully. 

“I think I’ll be quite sufficient at that myself, don’t you think James?” she said and gave him a wry smile.

“Ah, Dory, don’t put yourself down like that. You’re only a little odd. Most of the time,” he winked at her.

Pandora looked at shoes and tried not to blush. It wasn’t fair for him to be kind to her now, it made her uncomfortable. She hated the way the smallest compliment made her a twitchy mess. 

“I should find a compartment. I’ll talk to you later James,” she nodded her head repeatedly as she turned on her heel and walked quickly away. 

“Talk to you later Dory,” he called after her in a sing-song voice. He was too handsome and too charming for his own good and he knew it. 

\------------

Pandora settled herself into an empty cabin, next to the window and breathed a sigh of relief. She took in the silence of the cabin and closed her eyes, appreciating the muted sounds from outside the train. Soon she would feel the comforting rumble of the train carrying her away to one of her favorite places. Her routine would begin again and she would be able to properly focus on her projects without the constant interruption of Mother and her _ social lessons _ . It was a wonder that mother hadn’t given up on Pandora’s social graces already. She had no interest in them but acted as well as she could each time she was in a place where it was required of her. It was just exhausting. She preferred her own company, where she didn’t have to be anyone or anything. People asked too much of her.

As she balanced her satchel onto her lap to find her journal, that she might continue unraveling the puzzle of her chronomancy, she heard the door slide open. She glanced up and caught the eyes of Rabastan Lestrange. She winced and looked back down at her bag quickly. She moved her satchel from her lap to the space between herself and the rest of the bench. She looked pointedly out the window and ignored Rabastan entering the compartment. She popped her jaw several times and crossed her arms in front of her, visibly closing herself off as much as possible. Rabastan cleared his throat and entered the compartment. Another boy came in behind him. She vaguely recognized him as someone who was often in her advanced classes. 

“Good afternoon Ms Rosier, may we share the cabin with you?” Rabastan asked as he made his way in and sat across from Pandora. 

She raised her eyebrow and waved sarcastically at the seats. As though to thank him for asking, but hating him for not caring what the answer was. The other boy sat at the opposite end of her bench and she jutted her hip to the side to push her bag further away from herself and non-verbally show her distaste for the invaders into her space.

Rabastan shared a look with the other boy and the dark haired boy next to her stifled a snort of laughter. Pandora rolled her eyes, accustomed to being mocked by those who thought she was oblivious. She opened her journal to read as Rabastan spoke.

“I believe you know me, but allow me to introduce myself formally. I’m Rabastan Lestrange. I believe we’ll be getting to know each other quite well over the next few years. I’ve been told you were informed of our betrothal. I apologize for the late notice and impropriety of not meeting you at your house formally. This has all come about rather suddenly. I assure you I am as surprised as you are, though I do not think that precludes us from having an enjoyable union.”

She snorted at his phrasing and bit her bottom lip. She steadfastly stared down at her book. When she failed to acknowledge him, he continued only a little awkwardly.

“This is my friend Severus Snape. He’s in Slytherin with me. I believe he has several classes with you, as do I. Potions and Charms I believe?” his voice trailed off hopefully, awaiting any sort of participation in the conversation. 

After several torturous moments of silence, Pandora spoke without looking up from her reading.

“Pandora.”

Rabastan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at Severus questioningly.”Excuse me?”

“You called me Ms Rosier. My name is Pandora,” she said. She didn’t bother to add inflection to her voice or change her expression.

“Ah, yes...thank you,” Rabastan replied and tilted his head at Severus meaningfully. 

Severus could barely contain his amusement at his best friend’s trouble engaging his intended in basic conversation. He crossed one long leg over the other and leaned against the outer side of the compartment. He held his slender fingers over his lips as he struggled to repress a smile. Rabastan rolled his eyes at his unhelpful friend and tried to think of anything that might tempt the intractable girl into conversation. 

“May I ask what you are reading?” Severus asked, taking mercy on his friend.

Pandora snapped the journal closed and glared across at Severus. She raised her eyebrows at him and cocked her head to the side, popping her jaw . “I’m not. People keep attempting to make inane conversation with me.” 

Severus’s subtle smirk spread into a full blown grin. He seemed to get enormous amusement at her annoyance.

She rolled her eyes and crossed one leg over the other and crossed her arms across her cardigan once more, angling her body to stare out the window again. The compartment slid open again and she sighed heavily, snapping her head to glare at whatever unfortunate soul had stumbled into the tense situation. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath in through her nose when she saw her least favorite Potter in the doorway. He waggled his eyebrows at her and moved through the compartment in one large step of his long legs to plop down next to Pandora. He placed the bag onto the floor and slung his arm around her shoulders. She winced at the contact.

“Told ya I’d see you again Dory. How’s it going in here with these two snakes then?” he taunted the other boys who sat up straighter at his easy intrusion into the cabin. At the door, Sirius Black leaned against the frame, his perfect black hair hanging artfully in front of his eyes. Peter Pettigrew hung back in the corridor awkwardly. 

“Where’s Remus? He’s the only one of you lot with any sense,” Pandora asked as she picked up James’ coffee cream hand off her shoulder and pointedly rested it back on his own thigh. Instead, he threaded it through his untameable hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He jerked his head inward, indicating for Sirius and Peter to enter and he slid his arm around Pandora’s shoulders again as Peter slid the door closed. Sirius sprawled next to Rabastan and crossed his long legs out in front of him, his elbows jutting out, resting on the back of the seat. It seemed to be a personal challenge of his to take up as much space as possible, physical or otherwise, in any given situation. She looked at him, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head. Peter settled himself in the smaller space between Sirius and the door. 

“Remus is off prefecting. Helping the ickle firsties get settled in. So. These two bothering you, Dory?” James asked as she bristled at the repeated use of the nickname he knew she hated. 

She straightened in her seat, moving her shoulders irritably at his arm on them. 

“No, but you are.”

Rabastan quirked an eyebrow at her and she death glared at Sirius who merely smiled back. 

James laughed and squeezed her shoulder. She tensed under the added contact and closed her eyes, scrunching them tightly together several times behind her sunglasses, hoping James didn’t notice. As much as she wanted to run Rabastan off by being her maskless self, she didn’t relish the idea of James chiding her for her mannerisms in front of everyone. And she knew he held no qualms over her public admonishment. As if on cue, he grabbed her sunglasses and folded them and tucked them into the front pocket of his blazer. 

“What has your mother said about these? S’not like you need them. Not like mine are they? And if I didn’t know any better, I might think you only wear them because of that muggle fellow...what’s his name Sirius?”

“John Lennon,” Sirius replied.

A blush crept up her neck and she tilted her head down and away from the group. She hunched one shoulder and attempted to crawl into herself as she set about tuning James out until he tired of her and left. She popped her jaw several times and squinted at the bright sun coming through the window of the moving train. She found a hill to focus on as they passed pastures and she tried to keep hold of her emotions. They felt close to overflowing any time she spent more than a few moments around James and his cronies. 

Rabastan watched the exchange intently and his eyes darkened at James’ casual callousness. It was Severus, however, who spoke.

“What’s wrong Potter, couldn’t find your own cabin full of Potter-hopefuls ready to take any stray glance as a token of your affection? Had to come down to bother those clearly uninterested in your company?”

James whipped his head over to Severus, but Sirius interrupted any response he might have made.

“And what are you doing here, greasy bat? Hanging onto Lestrange’s coattails as always, hoping to grab at a crumb of popularity?” he sneered at the lanky boy opposite him, leaning into his space menacingly.

Pandora felt the air shift and groaned inwardly at the antics testosterone seemed to cause. She only wanted to have a peaceful journey to Hogwarts. Perhaps read her journals and make some attempt to learn something useful. She wished at that moment that she already knew a modicum of chronomancy, if only to speed past this whole uncomfortable encounter.

“Bats aren’t greasy. They’re quite clean and they eat many unwanted pests, so I like to think they’re part of nature’s cleaning staff,” Pandora said. Her inflection was the most animated it had been since talking to her brother earlier. She enjoyed talking about things she loved, and unjustly disliked creatures were a particular interest of hers. Her interjection of a random anecdote did its job, though and Sirius raised an inquisitive eyebrow at James. James simply shook his head and lifted himself out of the seat. 

“Well, we should be getting on. People to see, pretty girls to flirt with,” James said and winked at Pandora. She straightened uncomfortably at his attention and frowned.

“Dory, do let me know if you need anything this year.  _ Anything _ ,” he looked at her pointedly and glided out of the compartment, Sirius and Peter trekking after him. Severus and Sirius exchanging sneer for sneer as the door closed again. There was laughter in the hallway and she felt the embarrassment of earlier creep back into her tenfold. 

Rabastan and Severus shifted uncomfortably in their seats and she could feel them exchanging looks, presumably having a conversation without words. Pandora reached up to push her glasses up on her nose before she remembered James had taken them. She would have to send an elf to acquire some from Hogsmeade once they arrived at school. She felt eyes trained on her and lifted her cold fore and middle fingers to press at her ears. Her first finger around the back of the pinna, pressing next to her hairline and her middle finger putting pressure on the tragus. Her pinkie fingers stretched over her face and she let the gentle pressure and perpetual coldness of her fingers at the inner corner of her eyes soothe her.

She felt calmed and glanced up to see Severus gazing at her curiously. Her brows knitted together and she gave her best scowl. All the response he gave was a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. She looked away and found her gaze caught by Rabastan holding out a ginger candy for her. Pandora sat up in her chair, remembering the company she was in and unconsciously channeling her mothers distaste for slouching. She looked skeptically at the candy in Rabastan’s open palm.

“These long train rides always bother me. I find ginger candies are the best solution to calming one’s nerves,” he said. His face seemed open and lacking in malice. She inherently distrusted unprompted offers of kindness. Experience had taught her there was always either a price or a joke behind it. Seeing her skepticism, Rabastan shrugged congenially and placed the candy on the window ledge between them and crossed an ankle over his left knee. He reached into his blazer and retrieved a book of his own. When she looked to her side, she saw that Severus was already reading quietly as well. Distrusting, she opened her journal again and waited for more conversation. Or veiled insults. Or anything. 

But it never came. 

The cabin remained quiet and after a few minutes, feeling her queasy stomach turn, she reached slowly for the candy, palming it. Quietly as a mouse, she unwrapped it and placed it in her mouth, almost instantly feeling the nausea lessen. She tucked the wrapper into her pocket and mumbled a quiet “thank you” as she kept her gaze down.

Had she looked up, she would have seen the smallest smirk of triumph on Rabastan’s lips.


	3. This time tomorrow what will we see, this time tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter, but here we go!
> 
> Thanks to all the folx who let me spew chaotic ideas at to talk through this process.  
> Including starryar and my dear long-suffering partner, my original springboard.
> 
> Un-beta'd, as is tradition
> 
> Oh, and I don't own these characters.

The remainder of the journey to Hogwarts was uneventful. Once it was clear they would not bother her further with conversation, Pandora erected a muffliato around herself and let herself be lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking motion of the train. When she awoke to the bell alerting them of their imminent arrival, she found the compartment empty. Locking the door, she changed quickly into her Ravenclaw robes and adjusted her hair in the reflection of the glass. She pressed her eyes together tightly, took a deep breath and steeled herself to wade into the chaos of the disembarking train. 

The carriages emptied and she skirted along the edges to avoid the more boisterous younger years. She entrusted her luggage to the house elves and found the least occupied carriage to take her to the castle. As her fellow travelers, a few of her housemates, chatted excitedly and caught up on their summers, she focused on the trees passing around them. The path from the station to the castle was one of her favorite parts of coming home to Hogwarts each year. She watched the pixies flit through the trees and she smiled in greeting. Those who though pixies to be unsociable simply didn’t know how to calm down enough to show them the appropriate respect they deserved. They could be terribly good allies if one simply made an effort.

The dusk had settled into night and she closed her eyes, enjoying the crisp evening air. They reached the castle and made their way to the Great Hall. As Pandora remained on the periphery of the crowd, several of her classmates waved at her and she reminded herself to lift the corners of her mouth and brighten her eyes as she waved at them. People liked that sort of thing, even if it wasn’t genuine. It was strange that no one seemed to notice or care overly much whether a smile was genuine or not. It was yet another in a long list of social customs that would never make sense to Pandora. People were a conundrum she could not solve satisfactorily. 

Once settled in the end seat, farthest from the front of Ravenclaw table, Pandora settled her satchel on the inside position to further distance herself from anyone tempted to encroach on her personal space. Luckily, all her nearest neighbors appeared to be of her year, and had long given up on attempting more than passing conversation with Pandora. She smiled in greeting, as was expected, and turned to situate her goblet and utensils perfectly, so that once the feast appeared, she would be able to dine with minimal disruption. She drew her journal from the satchel once more, cast her non-verbal, wandless muffliato. Casting vestigium verba, she lost herself in the notes until she was expected to at least glance toward the front as the first years entered the hall for sorting. 

It seemed a rather long line this year and she poured a goblet of cranberry juice from one of the pitchers to await the tedious sorting. She let her muffliato fall, but turned her attention back to her reading as the line of first years slowly dwindled. She clapped lightly with each time her house did, never removing her eyes from the journal. When the noise quieted and Headmaster Dumbledore made his speech of nonsensical phrases and grounds rules, she closed the journal and tucked it into her satchel again. She removed her hands from the table and waited until a shining pewter plate appeared in front of her. The feast began and she glanced to be sure her housemates were not reaching for the same dishes as she took spoonfuls of mash, mushy peas, a few boxties and salad. She carefully used her knife to ensure none of the foods touched one another and scowled as a classmate near her accidentally bumped her shoulder, causing her fork to land in both the peas and mash. She glared up at the poor student, who she found to be a first year attempting to walk back to their seat after greeting an older relative. The small student shrank away and Pandora looked back down to her plate, trying to separate the foods effectively again. Her brows furrowed, sorry that she had frightened the girl, but unable to produce the words or will to say anything to her. 

Pandora’s hands shook as she grabbed at the side of her neck and leaned her elbow on the table to shield her away from the rest of her house. She pressed her eyes together tightly and took several calming breaths. When she regained her composure, she found a small plate of profiteroles in front of her dinner plate. As she glanced up, she saw Gertrude Goyle sending her a lopsided smile, scrunching her nose up and shrugging her broad shoulders in a gesture of commiseration. Pandora breathed a laugh and nodded her thanks and assurance that she was okay. Gerty was one of a few people who did not bother her as much as the others. She might seem intimidating, but that was a simple matter of genetics. It did make her quite good on the Quidditch field though. Gerty at least understood what it was to have assumptions made about one. 

The rest of the meal was loud, but Pandora was still frazzled enough that it failed to occur to her that she had never erected her muffliato again. So, when the feast came to an end and she felt herself buzzing with energy so intense that her hands shook and she dug her fingers unconsciously into her palms, she numbly made her way out of the hall to the stairwell. Her conscious mind swirled in thoughts of all the things she needed to do next while the other half of her brain counted the steps toward the most direct route to Ravenclaw Tower. She was looking at her feet, remembering the curvature of the flagstones when she bumped into a large, dark mass in front of her. 

“I...Iiiiee….Ummm,” she stammered. Trying to catch the words in her mind and send them over her tongue, Pandora took an impatient breath and looked up at the person she’d bumped into. She was surprised to find Severus Snape in front of her and took a startled step backward, bumping into another person trying to pass them. Severus simply stared at her, cocking one of his sharp eyebrows at her in amusement. Pandora lifted her chin up in a dignified tilt, attempting to regain her composure, when another individual knocked into her from behind. She inhaled sharply and felt near screaming. Only a few seconds had passed, but it felt an age. Severus smirked and guided her to the side of the hallway by her elbow, barely touching her, thus retaining all propriety. Once they were off the main thoroughfare, Severus tilted his head to the side expectantly. 

“I apologize. I was rather lost in my thoughts, and I should have paid more attention to where I was walking,” she said finally. 

“It’s of no consequence. How was the remainder of your journey Ms - ah, Pandora?” he asked, unsure if he were also allowed to use her given name as Rabastan had been told to. 

“It was quite fine, thank you. And you?” she asked crisply. She kept her eyes averted, not feeling at all comfortable trying to look at Severus’ face so soon into their acquaintance. She studied the tapestry behind him, furrowing her brow when she noted six men in the acropolis as opposed to the five she thought were woven on this particular scene. Severus noted her attention on the tapestry and took a step toward the thoroughfare again and edged closer to the dungeons’ stairwell. 

“Quite fine,” he echoed slyly. “I will leave you to your evening, Pandora,” he said and bowed his exit.

There was something about that boy Pandora didn’t appreciate. Like there was a private joke he held every time they talked. She rolled her eyes at the interaction and re-oriented herself in the hallway. Thankfully, the crowd had died down somewhat and she was able to navigate to her dorms without any more jostling of her person. The first few days of term were always the worst. The first years she could understand, but the rest of the students acted as though they’d completely forgotten where the dorms and classes were over the summer. One simply needed to look at their schedule and map out where to go and how long it would take to get there. 

Evan had gifted her with her map in first year, to aid her in avoiding most of the crowds. But it really wasn’t a terribly difficult tool to construct. She’d made several and gifted the maps through the years to younger students who seemed to need a hand in navigating the school. If the student was particularly less annoying than others, she would even charm the map to show where their friends were at any given moment. She thought of the terrified first year from earlier and determined to make her a map to apologize for her unintentional rudeness. She didn’t want to be rude or make people feel badly. It just seemed to happen more often with her than seemed typical. 

In her dorms, Pandora put her things away and called for her school-assigned elf. 

Tinny appeared with a pop and looked up patiently at her. “Tinny, I’d appreciate it so much if you would hop over to the manor and grab two more pairs of my teashades. I lost mine on the train, you see,” she gave the kind elf a warm smile.  
“Tinny would be loving to help the mistress. Is there anything else she be needing from home?” the elf asked.

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind terribly, I could use some vellum. It is in the top drawer of the secretary desk in my bedroom. Thank you ever so much Tinny,” she said.

Tinny gave her a broad smile and nodded, popping away. She returned 10 minutes later with the items and insisted on turning down the bedclothes for all her charges. Pandora slipped Tinny a piece of chocolate with a wink and the sweet elf beamed up at her. A few moments after her departure, a cup appeared on Pandora’s bedside table with peppermint chamomile tea and a chocolate biscuit. She was immensely comforted to be at home again and safely away from Mother’s barbs for at least a few months. Pandora changed into her nightdress and closed the curtains around her bed with a swish of her wand. She settled into the plush fabrics and basked in the privacy wards of the enchanted beds. She sipped her tea and read the journal for an hour before falling asleep with the notes on her chest.

\-------

Several weeks passed relatively quickly as she settled back into patterns. The journals were interesting, if confusing at times and tending to drift off on personal tangents. But she supposed that was part and parcel of a personal journal, no matter how scholarly her arriere grand-mere tended to me. It kept her waking mind occupied as her body went through the motions of classes and assignments. The classes she cared for, she received top marks in. The classes she detested, she continued to do as abysmally as she did every year, scraping by with a barely passing grade lest she receive a howler from Mother. Her command of time magic remained limited as she practiced the meditations suggested in her journal. They grew slowly and faltered when she became too agitated with her daily life, which was unfortunately frequent for several reasons. 

When she noticed her daily routine had been memorized by Rabastan Lestrange and Severus Snape, she begrudgingly changed her route to avoid the insistent escorts to her classes. It was only a day before they found her again and resumed their unwanted chaperoning. Pandora hoped to keep her routine largely the same as it had been the last five school years. However, she suspected more drastic measures would have to be taken to avoid company. Evan had detailed all the secret passageways and hiding places known to him on her map. And as the years had worn on, her need for solitude had helped her find many more, which she annotated on the map. She spent an entire evening tweaking her map to send her buzzing warnings any time Rabastan or any of his henchmen came near her so that she could escape their attention. 

If anyone thought they knew the grounds quite as well as Pandora Rosier, they were sorely mistaken. When she didn’t want to be found, she simply wouldn’t be. People were a bother. They interrupted valuable study time and brought little intellectual stimulation. At least not about anything she cared to know. Classes were a necessity and sometimes a delight. When Evan still attended, he spoke with all of her professors to make sure they would accommodate her peculiarities. Evan was a silver-tongued devil who could have you dancing to his tune before you even knew your feet were moving. It helped tremendously when Pandora could barely get the words from the back of her thoughts to her mouth without stuttering or clamming up out of frustration. She envied his ability to speak so easily when it was such a chore for her.

So, as she wore her sunglasses to class each day in the sunny rooms that Charms and Ancient Runes were held in, her classmates rolled their eyes, but the professors proceeded as nothing was out of the ordinary. They largely gave her assignments through parchment and she copied notes from the books, which she reviewed with them later during office hours. They were content to allow Pandora to do as she liked (and Evan had convinced them) as long as she passed their classes. And if Slughorn thought anything about her atrocious grade and solitary lab practice, he never mentioned it. While Evan had been a favorite in the Slug Club, she was perfectly happy to be ignored in the dreaded potions class. The only reason she remained in it past her OWL year was to appease her father’s desire for her to have as many options available to her as possible in a future career. Not that it seemed to matter much any longer, she grumbled to herself, as she thought of her betrothal.

As she passed out of Ancient Runes, on her way to lunch that day, she kept to the side of the corridor. As a rule, she avoided the crowds of the middle, and consequently spent a larger than average portion of time studying the portraits and tapestries lining the walls. Many of them were on loan from the private collections of purebloods who had attended the school or currently had children enrolled. Some were constants, permanently gifted to the school or commissioned by former professors. But some rotated regularly through the years. Though this was her sixth year attending, there were still pieces she had never noticed or had been changed out since the beginning of her schooling. 

Oh that particular passage through the corridor, as the crowd thinned and she slowed her pace to avoid the jostling rush to the Great Hall, she noticed a tapestry of Jason and the Argonauts. It felt familiar and not simultaneously. She admired the weave of the tapestry, the fine details of Jason and his hero adventurers. As a flagstone uncharacteristically caught her foot, she stumbled and reached her hand out to the wall to steady herself from falling. She frowned at the floor and glanced up to the wall where she felt a spark as it connected with the tapestry. In the tapestry, a young man in the background caught her eyes. He grinned at her, cocked an eyebrow and lifted both hands toward her. Snapping his fingers, then pointing them at her, thumbs raised as though his fingers were very small muggle guns, he gave her a very daring wink. 

Pandora drew her head back and looked to each side to see if anyone else was in the corridor. It seemed as though she was alone and she narrowed her eyes at the young man in the scene. Intrigued by the very forward behaviour in the tapestry she’d never even noticed before, she stepped closer to inspect it. Every other part of the scene was in the midst of a great battle, moving from one part of the tale to the next as their ship sailed from island to island. Yet, the brown haired young man on the boat stood still as he bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows at her. Pandora drew her head back again with a huff and turned away from the tapestry. Though as she made her way through lunch she thought on the unusual behavior of the young man in the tapestry and vowed to do some research later that evening.


	4. I'm not on the make, I just need a break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of mystery, a bit of music, a bit of dancing.
> 
> *Not beta'd, barely edited, here's a chapter!
> 
> Happy Yule Y'all!

_ “Just keep holding my hand!” the blonde girl shouted over the den of crashing earth. The sound of people screaming faded behind the cacophony of the ground swelling and falling like a great wave. A brunette girl clutched at the blonde’s hand with all her strength and tried to make sense of the world around her. She saw a tall boy struggling to do the same at the petite blonde’s other side. Her feet moved independent of her, riding the swell of dirt and rocks as she looked for anyone else to grab onto.  _

_ “We have to go now! Grab hold of each other and  _ **_don’t let go for anything_ ** _!” the blonde screamed at her two friends. The brunette witch locked eyes with the boy and, as her fingertips grasped his, the world fell away. In a moment, she was no longer watching the grounds of her school destroy themselves, but floating in mid-air.  _

_ The world faded to white and shifted around her. Like moving through mercury glass, she watched the color swirl around and  _ **_through_ ** _ her. She felt a singular wholeness for a moment before she was overwhelmed by the intensity of the magic coursing through her body. She looked to the light haired girl, who seemed to be in a trance, floating between the other two. Her body pulled taut, her head thrown back. She looked like a conduit for something unimaginably powerful.  _

_ The dark haired girl’s jaw was slack, the boy wide-eyed in shock. As she took in the shifting patterns of light in the ether surrounding her, she thought she caught glimpses of people, memories, wishes, nightmares. The roar of crumbling earth had given way to an eerie vacuum. All she could hear was blood rushing in her ears. The boy seemed to be shouting something at her and she furrowed her brow in confusion. The space between them swelled with energy emanating from the lithe blond and the force pushed them away from her. The pulsing hum of energy exploded outward and the darker witch was jerked back from the circle they’d formed. Though she clutched desperately at their hands, she fell away from them both. _

_ As the connection broke, she watched the two friends fall away from her. No, that wasn’t right. She was falling. She was tumbling back into the nebulous mercury glass void. She heard someone scream her name in the distance as her world went white. _

  
  


***************************

_ “Bad day’s Dawning!” someone shouted distantly. _

_ “You really need to stop this. You’re going to drool all over the books one day. I think even Madam Faruza’s protection spells might not stand up to that toxic sludge escaping your lips after five hours of non-stop research. Sincerely, drink some wa’er luv. That barnet o’ yours might catch fire it’s so dried out,” he said picking up a curl between his fingers and inspecting it.  _

_ She rolled her eyes at his teasing. Though it pleased her to hear his thick East End accent coming through as it tended to do when he was alone with her, comfortable enough for a rare few moments to stop being anyone other than himself. She pushed herself up from the table, and clasped her hands together above her head, turning her laced palms to the ceiling, arching her back in a languorous movement as she tilted her hips from side to side, working the kinks out of her neck and back. The rakish boy gave her a lazy look up and down and when she caught his eye, she sent a wink and smirk right back at him.  _

_ He let out an exasperated sigh and held her portfolio as she pulled her kinky hair into a rough bun on top of her head, securing it with her wand. When he crooked an elbow, she threaded her arm through and pulled him in close, leaning into his tall frame. They exited the double doors and strolled through the quiet halls on their way to the dungeons... _

_ the dungeons… _

_ Wait.. _

  
  


_ no... _

  
  


***************************

  
  
  


“Pandora!” she felt her shoulder being shaken as she lifted her head from the book she’d lain it on. She’d fallen asleep researching again. It was good that Madame Faruza allowed her to stay in the library long after it closed to the younger years, but she really needed to watch the clock more closely for her own well-being. 

She blinked her eyes, willing the sleep from them as she looked to see Severus Snape at her shoulder. She straightened herself up awkwardly and started closing up her books and arranging her parchment into a neat stack. She tried to surreptitiously wipe the back of her hand against her mouth lest there be spittle there after her nap on the books. She tucked the papers into her satchel and stuffed the rest of her things haphazardly in, not bothering with her usual extremely particular organization. A glance at the clock told her it was approximately fifteen minutes till curfew. 

She snatched her blazer from the back of her chair and gave a curt nod to Severus Snape in thanks. Pandora walked swiftly to the front of the library with every intention of sending Severus a thank you note after she was safely back in her dorm room. She kept her head down and felt his presence remain close to her as they excited the double doors. She made off as though to begin the trek back to Ravenclaw tower when he grabbed at her elbow. She jerked it away from him just as quickly.

“I thank you for your assistance in waking me from that unexpected nap, but I would very much appreciate you  _ keeping your hands to yourself _ . If you  _ please. _ Severus,” Pandora punctuated his name.

Severus narrowed his eyes slightly and arched an eyebrow mildly at her. “I was merely going to offer to walk you back to your rooms this evening. It is best for a young lady to be chaperoned, is it not? Especially when they’re not taking as much care with their surroundings as might be warranted,” he trailed off meaningfully.

Pandora seethed inwardly, her face a mask of tired indifference. It had been years since she’d fallen asleep at the research table. Of course her first slip in recent memory would be witnessed by Severus Snape, re-affirming some belief he and Rabastan seemed to share about her fragility. 

Schooling her voice and modulating her face to reflect all the politeness she could muster, she responded, “That is most generous of you. Though, I don’t wish for you to return late to your own rooms. I believe I shall be able to make my own way to my rooms without irreparable damage to my person.”

Her snark was not lost on the slytherin, and his mouth quirked up at her. 

“I really must insist. Rabastan would never forgive me otherwise,” he said definitively. 

She gathered herself together and walked with her unasked for chaperone. The journey back to Ravenclaw Tower was uncomfortably silent. Pandora didn’t particularly care for conversations about nothing, no matter how expected and polite her mother considered them to be. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t like to talk. She was quite talkative, in fact. It simply required a topic she cared to discuss. And company she didn’t want to stab in the eye repeatedly. So she occupied her thoughts as she usually did when she was too tired to solve puzzles and think of academics. She counted the steps in the back of her mind and looked at the patterns of the stones in the floors. 

One might think at first glance that they were haphazardly laid down. But that was very rarely the case in these old castles. The builder elves (because it usually was the elves who had built such places) would have gotten the plans and basic dimensions from a wizard or witch and set to work. More of the creative process was left up to them than many realized. That was why there were so often secret tunnels that were only known to the magical staff of the castles throughout England. Pandora hadn’t had much practical experience with the magical beings outside Britain, but from her reading she thought similar building practices took place elsewhere in Europe. 

A throat clearing pulled Pandora from her thoughts and she looked up to see Severus glancing down at her curiously.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“I was just thinking about Elven architecture and the stories they wrote into castles,” Pandora responded, looking around at the stonework. 

After a moment of silence, Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably again. 

“Yes. That is...interesting.”

It wasn’t. Not to him at least. Pandora often found that people asked questions they had no desire to hear the answer to and she found it incredibly tiresome. If one didn’t care to hear something unexpected, why ask a question that leaves the possibility for such an answer open? Because Merlin help you if you did ask, and then told the individual that their answer bored you.  _ That _ wasn’t allowed. Apparently. Though you’re just supposed to figure it out on your own. No one tells you it. They simply stare at you bewildered after you tell them they’ve bored you to tears with talk of next seasons hats and fripperies. 

Of course she didn’t know that from personal experience. 

Oh no.

So she searched for one of the safe topics. The expected answers. She ran through the index in her mind of all the most applicable inane conversation topics and landed on the weather. 

“Are you enjoying the mist? It’s quite lovely isn’t it?” she asked.

“Well,”Severus said,” I suppose if one enjoys dreary, chilly, damp Scottish Autumns, it is quite perfect.”

“I do,” Pandora responded simply.

Surprised by her candor, Severus paused half a step. “Yes, well I suppose I do too.”

Pandora gave a short, breathy laugh and for the first time, smiled at Severus.

They continued the rest of the way back to the tower in silence. As they reached the door, Pandora turned to face the raven-haired wizard.

“You really don’t have to do this. I’m quite capable of keeping hold of my virtue until your mate becomes mine,” she stared patiently at him. 

“Was. Was that a joke?”

Pandora simply shrugged at him and smirked. 

“Goodnight Severus. I really don’t require friends or chaperones. You needn’t bother yourself with either,” she said and turned to whisper the pass-phrase to the door.

  
  


***************************

“She’s the most absolutely infuriating witch I’ve ever had contact with,” Severus stormed back and forth in a corner of the Slytherin common room. Rabastan sat laconically, slumped into one of the delicate georgian chairs in front of a portrait of some long dead Black or Lestrange. It was always prudent to keep to the portraits of one’s own house when having private conversations. 

“At least you don’t have to marry the barmy chit,” Rabastan said.

“I’ve had five seperate letters, of increasing agitation from Rodolphus and two from Bellatrix. I’m certain I’ll get a howler soon enough. They expect me to woo her and I can’t even get her to stay in the same room for more than five minutes.”

Rabastan uncrossed his long legs and crossed the opposite leg on top in agitation. 

“Did you know she sits alone in Charms? I didn’t even realize there  _ were _ individual tables in Charms. I think she must have shrunk it herself so there’s no possibility of someone sitting next to her. And it’s the same in Potions. How did she manage to isolate herself in every single class? And in the Great Hall, she specifically sits at the end every single day, so no one can sit anywhere near. Last week, I watched some unfortunate first year sit in her usual spot, and she just stood there for five minutes, staring at the boy until he noticed and moved to the other end of the table. Thought she was going to hex him.”

Rabastan huffed to himself a moment and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say Rod matched me with her just to drive me as mad as Bella must drive him. Is it a rule that all witches marrying into our family must be absolutely raving? Is that a part of the house motto I just wasn’t made aware of?”

“ The contract is signed. It is an inevitability. Why are you even trying to court the witch in the first place?” Severus asked.

Rabastan sighed, rolled his head and looked to the ceiling. “ It’s part of the contract. Pierre Rosier insisted I court his daughter. Some sort of insurance she has a chance at a happy marriage or some drivel. Not that he has much leverage to be making any sort of demands. I do not even know why Rodolphus made this wretched deal. We’re hardly getting a decent dowry out of it. What’s his game?” 

Severus seated himself across from his closest friend and thought through all his knowledge of the Rosiers.

“Her mother was a Melitene?” he asked the ruminating wizard.

“Indeed. French, explorers, some Greek roots I believe,” Rabastan pondered. “I think Rodolphus has his eyes set on the Rosier library. I can only assume that’s the draw, as Pierre Rosier has as much business acumen as a Hungarian Horntail with a belly full of elves.”

Severus made a non-commital noise of agreement. He didn’t always catch the nuance of his pureblood friends’ colloquialisms, having spent the beginning of his life in a rather abusive half-blood household and the rest being largely ignored by his grandparents. There were certain cultural references that didn’t entirely translate outside of the centuries old culture of British pureblood society. 

“If I can just get her to stay in my presence for a few moments, surely I can charm her enough to get her to have a full conversation with me. I’m not that terrible to look at, am I Severus?” Rabastan asked, tilting his head toward his friend archly. 

Severus suppressed a smile and looked away from his best friend. “You know you’re not.”

Changing the subject, Severus thought again about the Rosier’s library. “You said Rod might want their collection. Any idea why? I’ve never known Rodolphus to be the swottish type.”

“Well, he might not be,” Rabastan replied, “but the fellow he has staying at the manor seems quite keen on all the research he can get his hands on. Especially in the dark arts. I’m a bit surprised they haven’t made their marriage a triad already. The bloke has been living with us for the past two years. They’ve an entire wing I’m no longer welcome in. I was sure it was Bella’s doing but Rod seems quite taken with him as well. Not that I imagine there’s any sort of genuine affection there. Tom, their third, is the Undersecretary of the Interior for Magical Britain. So it seems I’ve become the perfect pawn to gain access to the Rosier libraries and whatever it is they’re intent on accessing  _ in _ them.” 

“The question is  _ what _ ?” said Severus.

“That is  _ one _ question. The question for now, however, is how to make headway with the only person I’ve ever known to have an even pricklier personality that  _ you _ Sev,” Rabastan said with a smirk. 

Severus blushed slightly and looked at the table between them. “Yes, well. Don’t look at me. She told me last night she has no need for chaperones  _ or _ friends. And I think from what we’ve both observed, she appears to have absolutely none to speak of. I might normally suggest trying a conversation with a witch's closest friends, but that seems to be right out. She made some barmy comment about elven architecture last night. Maybe a bit of research there and she might deign to speak with you on the topic for ten minutes?”

Rabastan grunted affirmation and pushed himself from his sprawl in the chair. He jerked his head toward the portrait hole and began his lazy amble out of the common room. “ Come on. Let’s go find my  _ intended _ ,” he said somewhat bitterly.

***************************

Pandora lifted the needle on the muggle record player she normally kept shrunken and hidden in the bottom of her trunk. She sifted through the collection she kept with her at school. Some records could be left at home, stored under floorboards and hidden with charms. But these were too precious. Too muggle. Each time she went into London with Evan, or recently when she could sneak off on her own during the summers, she spent hours searching seedy neighborhoods, finding the most intriguing muggle music records. The type of music even the muggles seemed to think was too dangerous. She wouldn’t dare leave it at the manor to have Mother possibly discover.

She pulled out “Love Bites” by The Buzzcocks and fiddled with the needle until she found the song she wanted. She let her head shift from side to side, and the music carried through her body until she was jerking her body somewhat violently with the music. She jumped up and down as she mouthed the lyrics. Her head banged up and down and her right arm pumped small motions near her waist as her left fingers moved along an imaginary fret. The song ended and she caught her breath briefly as the next began .

_ Pretty Girls _

_ Pretty Boys _

_ Have you ever heard your mama say  _

_ Noise Annoys _

She danced around the empty classroom she so often retreated to, playing through the chords in her head and moving her fingers through the motions. Her skirt bounced up in time with her erratic jumps and stomping. Her head bounced up and down when the chorus came in. As one song ended she danced through the music in her head and switched the record for “Never Mind the Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols”. If her mother ever found this one, she’d surely lose any freedom she had until she graduated. But she could see the faces of the boys she’d spied briefly in one of her forays out into Muggle London. 

People in Wizarding Britain thought she was odd. Her eyes were too large, her personality too big or too small. But that day in London, one of the boys at the seedy record store thought she was fit. He’d played with her hair and it was the most alive she’d ever felt. Of course, she’d bought one of the records he was trying to get the store to carry. He was full of danger and everything she wanted in the muggle movies she watched. His spiky black hair to his skin-tight trousers that made her blush. He stayed in her daydreams every day after that and led her down a rabbit-hole of muggle music corruption.

Before that, she had listened to the records left over from one of her father’s abandoned obsessions. The “Rat Pack”, a few singers whose smooth voices brought up images of dance halls, all held places in the collection of muggle music he kept behind a bookshelf in his study. She had liked them and it made her beg Evan to take her through London, searching for what else the muggle music shops might have. She fell in love with The Kinks and Donovan (who she later discovered was a half-blood) and as Evan felt more comfortable letting her explore on her own, she ventured further and further into East London, in search of the newest, most interesting music she could find. 

And then she discovered Punk. Punk was like nothing she’d ever heard before. The Buzzcocks, The Clash, The Jam. But most of all, The Sex Pistols. Sid Viscious was…something. He was everything. She snuck off one day that summer to buy a bass guitar just to try to emulate that sense of danger, that feeling of magic unattainable in her own world full of spells and potions. She practiced every day the previous summer until her fingers had calluses on them and she could play every single song on the record, and several others besides. 

She’d learned every ballroom dance there was to learn. She could do them with her eyes closed. And while she enjoyed dancing before, after she witnessed the manic energy of a group of muggles dancing to the Pistols, she was hooked. She learned the seemingly spastic movements and jerked her body to the beats as she ran through the songs in her head. It was all patterns, but in directions she’d never experienced them before. It was playful and radical and she wanted all of it. 

That was how she found herself retreating to various empty classrooms on weekends or the odd evening she wasn’t studying in the library. She carried her record player - an upgrade to her father’s gramophone she’d acquired on one of her adventures - and wound her way down through the servants’ passages and secret doorways the founders left throughout the castle, to one of the classrooms she felt least likely to be discovered in. She didn’t mind being alone like that. It was different actually being alone than being alone in a room full of people. She could be everything she couldn’t in front of those other people. She felt the music move through her body and made swirling shapes as she lost herself. 

It was the only time she could come close to the clearness of mind her arriere grand-mere’s journals spoke of. The said a chronomancer needed to clear their thoughts in order to attune themselves to time magic. It suggested meditation, but sitting still often left her thoughts spinning. Sometimes she could do it, but more often she found some sort of distraction in her seating, or the temperature or the ambient sounds of the castle. With music occupying the front of her mind, though, she could let her subconscious take over. She reached out with her magic like fingers to touch the timestream. She could play with it, back and forth, running it through her hands and making time go back a few moments or forward a second or two. It was like running her hands up and down the frets of her bass. 

When “God Save the Queen” started, she banged her head violently with the beat. She sung along as she did her little hops, her hair whipping from the front her face to the back of her head in time with the song. Lost in the music, she didn’t hear the door opening behind her. 

“Nooooooo Fuuuuuuture for Yoooooooouuuuuuu!” she screamed as the song ended. Her heart was beating fast from the exertion and she stepped over to the record player to change the album. A flash of black caught her eye and she whipped around to see Severus Snape and Rabastan Lestrange staring at her like she was covered in drunken pixies and asking them if they’d like a licorice whip.

She stepped in front of the player, startled and suddenly terrified of what they might do to her favorite thing in the world. She stared at them wide-eyed and tried to calm her breath before she had a fit. The adrenaline coursed through her and she began to shake.

“What are you doing here?! Don’t you know how to respect a witch’s privacy?” she said shrilly.

Rabastan stared at her, smirking. Severus seemed lost for words as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. 

“Well, what do you want?! “ she shouted after several moments of awkward silence.

“Ehm, we were just coming to look for you. Wondering what you spent your Saturday afternoons doing when we didn’t see you with your nose buried in a book in the library as usual, “ Rabastan said with a great deal of amusement.

Pandora’s face morphed to a scowl and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Well if you’re quite finished gawking at me, you can leave now.”

Rabastan tilted his head to the side and got a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Now, now. I thought we might spend some time together. You keep running off at every opportunity before I can ask you anything about yourself. And it seems there is _quite_ _a lot_ to learn about you Pandora Rosier,” he said, smiling evilly.

There was the Lestrange she’d been expecting. The pointed, conniving, malicious, cruel sadist his family was known for. Now she simply had to wait for the insults to come and shut down until he lost interest. 

“What do we have here? Is that...muggle music?” he sauntered over to the record player and craned his lean body around the petite blonde. His height allowed him to reach an arm over her shoulder to leaf through the record box at her side. 

She drew back her head in distaste and frowned up at him. She angled her body away from him and looked over to see Severus crossed arms, leaning languidly against the doorframe, watching them.

“Go ahead. Do what you’re going to do! Destroy my things, get rid of all the muggle music, go tell your psychotic brother! Maybe once your unhinged sister in law finds out that I enjoy muggle things, they’ll insist we end this farce of a betrothal! Or are you just planning on holding it all over me as blackmail? I can tell you right now,  _ that’s _ not going to happen. I will throw myself at the mercy of my godsforsaken Mother before I allow one more person to hold sway over  **MY** life,” she screamed and pulled herself up taller to stare at Rabastan. “So you can go right ahead and do whatever you’re planning on. But you  _ will not _ manipulate me.”

Pandora let out a huff as her anger petered out. With shaking hands, she cast a nonverbal, wandless shrinking charm on the records and player and stuffed them hastily in her pocket. She grabbed her robes in a rush and practically ran to the exit, where she was halted by the immobile Severus, still in the doorframe. She looked up at him indignantly and stamped a foot down in frustration, waiting for him to let her through. His mouth twitched up and he moved his body just enough that she could fit through the doorway, sweeping his arm in an exaggeratedly polite gesture. 

Pandora stormed out of the room and swept down the hallway in a fury. Rabastan peeked his head out of the door, next to Severus to watch the tiny, pixyish witch tear through the hall. When she had disappeared around a corner, he looked back at his friend and asked him, "Did you just see her cast a nonverbal  _ and _ wandless shrinking charm?” 

Severus cocked an eyebrow knowingly at him and thought about what he was going to do with the interest growing in his closest friend. Rabastan was always attracted to power and intellect. It’s why they got along so well. And Pandora now stood a chance to usurp a spot in his friend’s heart. He’d seen the possibility and while he couldn’t deny the appeal of her mind and that little display of magical aptitude, he felt the inklings of jealousy forming in his psyche. Yet, he had little to offer to the Lestranges, and had no hope of convincing his grandparents to make a bid for Rabastan’s hand. It was likely too late at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing with dates on song/album releases a bit. The years are a little off, but hey - it's a parallel universe, so who knows? Maybe the Sex Pistols lost Glen Matlock a year earlier in their universe and the entire London punk scene moved up a year earlier? Just go with it.
> 
> If it's confusing at this point, it's supposed to be a little? If it's too confusing, let me know in the comments, maybe some of your questions will be answered sooner. 
> 
> Please like and subscribe, I make every effort to update at least once a week.


	5. See it come along and don't know where it's from

Pandora fumed as she stomped down the hallway, not entirely sure where she was going. She had been having a perfectly lovely afternoon alone, dancing, thinking and not. And that  _ boy _ had to come and ruin it. Was it entirely fair for her to accuse him of being horrible when he hadn’t actually done anything other than stalk after her and try to make conversation? No. But she was just so….absolutely done. With people poking and prodding at her. With expecting things of her and not giving her a chance to figure out how to accomplish those things. With expecting her to know how to deal with existing in this noisy, bright, chaotic world, let alone the non-sensical relationships in it. The only person she could stand to inhabit the same room for more than ten minutes was Evan and he’d abandoned her when he left for his apprenticeship. 

People had expectations she constantly had to guess at, and when she dared to have expectations of them, they failed her every single time. People were not to be trusted. They did things they didn’t say and said things they didn’t mean. She simply didn’t need them. She was perfectly fine on her own, thank you very much.

Her eyes were cast down at the stone floors as she stomped through the corridors. She knew the way without, the number of steps ticking away at the back of her mind, but she didn’t bother to look up where she was going. Which is how she found herself in the middle of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew.

“Are you  **_kidding_ ** me?!” She yelled at the three people she  _ absolutely _ did not want to see at that moment.

Taken aback at her anger, James backed away with his hands held up open and placating in front of him. 

“Woah, Dory, what’s going on?” James asked, seemingly genuine.

“I cannot handle one more  _ boy _ in my life today,” the air crackled around her and space seemed to distort outward from her body. 

If James was good for one thing, it was that he’d grown up with Pandora and knew when she was at her absolute limit. Though he liked to test and push, he was at least aware enough to know when she could not take any more without lashing out. And woe betide anyone on the receiving end of her outbursts. He ducked his head down so he could look into her eyes, and she caught the sincerity in his for a moment before blinking hard and looking away. She crossed her arms over herself and he tentatively reached his hand to her arm to lead her off the corridor, into an abandoned classroom. He gave a meaningful look to Sirius and his friends nodded acknowledgement. James and Pandora were left in the quiet of the dusty classroom.

James transfigured a chair into a plush sofa and led Pandora over to sit next to him. 

“Breathe in. Hold it,” James guided her through the exercises Evan taught him years ago when he’d made him promise to look out for his sister after he’d graduated. “Breathe out through your mouth. Wait. In through your nose again.”

She held his long, sienna fingers and grounded herself in his solid presence. Breathing in and out, she felt her heart slow and the adrenaline dissipate. At that point, the tears came. The anger turned to shame and sadness, as it always did. She once again questioned why she couldn’t just control her emotions. Why she couldn’t help screaming at people who had barely done anything.

“Care to tell me what happened Dory?” James asked.

“Don’t call me that,” she replied automatically. Steadying her breath again, she tried to think of the sequence of events and determine what exactly had set her off so badly this time.

“They  _ interrupted me _ James,” she replied. He nodded knowingly and remained quiet, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. 

“All I wanted was to dance. I’d been looking forward to it all week and all I wanted was to  _ dance _ ,” she said desperately. 

James turned his body to her fully and held out his arms, allowing her to decide if she wanted a hug. Pandora closed her eyes tightly and fell into his arms. She stayed there for a long time, letting the emotion that had built inside of her through the semester, all flow into his arms. She would normally only do this with Evan, but she’d been alone here for the last couple years, and she was desperate for some kind of contact. Even if it was from James Potter. Who seemed to be surprisingly good at this. The git.

The last of her tears fell to his shoulder and she breathed in the scent of soap in his soft, tight curls. She stayed there for many long breaths. Until she had calmed enough that the adrenaline left and in its place, only the woozy, swollen feeling in her head that always came after a fit remained. As her breathing slowed, James shifted to better look at her face.

“ Can you tell me what happened and who I need to kill?” he asked, half jokingly.

She grimaced, ashamed of her outburst and trying to decide how to avoid talking with her first friend, and tormenter.

“I’ve just become a bit overwhelmed by the whole betrothal situation. It’s all too much at once. They keep following me around and I -”

James cut her off abruptly, “ _ They.  _ Who is  _ they? _ Rabastan’s the one courting you isn’t he?”

“Yes, but his friend Severus is  _ assisting  _ him in assuring my  _ virtue _ remains intact.I just want to be left alone. My schedule is entirely off-”

As she vented to him, James’s face grew sour and he cut her off yet again. “I knew it. He’s always been a slimy git. I’m going to hex his bollocks off. Thinks he can harass  _ my _ friend because he doesn’t like the way I talk to his…” James had a decidedly plotting look on his face as he trailed off and began to pull away from where he was seated. 

Pandora scowled and her hackles rose again. “That’s all you took from this? An excuse to run off and continue the escalation of a personal grievance? You’re so absolute self-absorbed James Potter!” she said as she used both hands to push him away from her and slid across the sofa to distance herself from him.

“You don’t understand Pandora. That greasy bat is angling something. I know you’re not terribly good with social situations luv, but you have to understand what people like him are like. I’ll take care of it for you and I’ll let your father know he needs to keep an eye on him as well. He’s not following you for no reason Dory,” he looked at imploring. Meaningfully.

Pandora squinted her eyes and scrunched up her nose the way she did when something both bothered and perplexed her. She worked through all the things James seemed to be implying. Why he couldn’t just say what he meant was infuriating...and it dawned on her. Her face slackened, she inhaled sharply and stood, backing away from James.

“James Potter,” she looked at him scandalized, “that is  _ not _ what is happening! How dare you assert that I might be spending time with him and allowing him...ad….advances! I...I wouldn’t...I would never…” she began to breathe quickly, panic growing in her.

“No, no, no Dory, that’s what I’m saying. Of course you would never, “ he stood, opening his hands placatingly in front of her. “That’s why I am going to go knock some sense into Snivellus and ensure that no untoward assumptions are made about your upcoming marriage. I don’t know that there’s much I can do about LeStrange, but I can at least make sure that his barmy family doesn’t have any additional reason to call off this engagement because of some baseless rumor.”

Pandora was quiet a moment, digesting his words, “You think they would? Call off the engagement I mean? Just....just because of my keeping the company of Severus?”

“I am going to make certain that doesn’t happen Dory. I told Evan I would, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do now. I’ll see you later Dory, don’t worry about a thing,” James winked at her and spun on his heel, making his exit before she could respond.

Pandora mulled over James’ words and view of her current social life and decided to embrace the erroneous assumptions she would normally have never bothered to pay attention to in the first place. 

A smile quirked at her lips.

  
  


******************************

Severus looked over the railing, watching students wind their way through the Escherian staircases. He wondered at the wizarding world’s myopic view on intelligence and creativity. Many famous figures were also wizard or witches, but just as many, more even, were simply muggles. Nothing particularly spectacular about them aside from their brains. One needn’t possess a rare DNA sequence and the familial tradition to carry on one’s genetics in an inbred stew to create great works. It was one of the few things Grindlewald had truly gotten completely wrong. There was no need to eradicate or even rule over muggles. They did just fine on their own so long as magical folk remained quietly in the background. They had their problems, but then didn’t wizards and witches? 

He couldn’t be terribly upset that at age 8, shortly after his mother died of a case of dragon pox she otherwise would have easily dealt with, he was taken from his abusive, drunken muggle father and given to his grandparents. He didn’t see that there was much of a difference in his day to day life aside from purely material things. He had enough to eat and he no longer feared for his safety from the occasional rat in his sleep. But life with his mother’s family was far from picturesque. Grindelwald believed that if magical children were taken away from the influence of the loathed muggle world, everything would be set right. But Severus could point to half a dozen friends and acquaintances, himself aside, who had either been adopted by or born into just as shite situations as abounded in the muggle world. The idea that wizards were any more civilized was entirely laughable. 

Even now, as he watched the students run up and down the stairs, he saw humanity’s underbelly. The bullies tormented the weaker just as they did in the small mining town he was born in. Here they used hexes and jinxes, there, punches and kicks. He was attempting to find a way to help his friend worm his way into his witch-to-be’s heart. He also thought of all the things he wanted and had little hope of getting. Hope was mostly futile. Planning, calculation, social engineering - which he was admittedly not spectacular at- were much better bets. 

Rabastan could charm the polish off a banister, and that was one of the reasons he’d fallen for his friend in the first place. That he couldn’t seem to get into Pandora Rosier’s good graces was a conundrum. But as Severus watched the students run to and fro, it occurred to him that Pandora treated everyone as though they were about to lash out at her. The way he used to respond in the company of his father, or when confronted by Sirius Black before he grew confident in his own abilities. She stalked through the halls like the entire world was against her. 

He could understand the sentiment. It had taken years of friendship with Rab for him to hesitantly trust that not every individual was intent on cruelty. But how he could convince Pandora, who had no good reason to believe him, of the very same in under a year...that was quite the challenge. He would normally have left Rabastan to do his wooing on his own, but Severus was compelled to aid his friend if he was not allowed to keep him for himself. He would ensure that Rabastan had every chance at an acceptably happy marriage. And the kindred feeling he felt with Pandora moved him to help her as well. 

So far, that had been less than stellar, however. In his own experience, it had simply taken Rabastan’s stubborn persistence to make him loosen up enough to give their friendship a chance. And once Rabastan had chipped away at his hardened exoskeleton of snark, he’d made friends with several other of the more tolerable students in his year. The Gryffindors were largely still insufferable, aside from Lily of course. However, the Ravenclaws often made acceptable friends when they could be pried away from their interest du jour. One also had to keep their attention like a moth to a light, provide them with a sufficiently interesting topic or puzzle and they’d come out of their own head long enough to converse with. The Hufflepuffs required one to show a bit of soft underbelly. But after one took you in, you could be assured that the rest would either know you personally or quickly inform your assigned Puff-protector if anyone dared to bother you. They were truly terrifying if only because of their collective dedication to justice and aggressive friendship.

It occurred to him how strange it was that none of the hufflepuffs had taken it upon themselves to adopt Pandora. He’d have to inquire about that next time he saw Quinton - his own very protective, badger friend. Quinton Kingsley had the added benefit of being one of the sacred 28. While Severus put little stock in blood purity, he knew Rodolphus Lestrange’s stance on the matter, and any chance to avoid conflict there was a boon. Perhaps Quinton’s sister Aurelia could be roped into Operation Misanthrope. She was a Gryffindor, but mostly tolerable. Perhaps her brashness could be directed into useful arenas.

He watched as the number of students trickled away from the staircases. During his free periods, he found it relaxing to observe his peers, his own personal version of muggle television. As he stared out over the railing, Rabastan approached his side, slinging his arm around his shoulders, though he was several inches taller than the dark blonde boy. 

“Severus, I need you to keep an eye on Pandora this weekend. I have to make a short trip home, Rabastan needs me to sign some documents. Maybe I can get a better idea of how solid this whole ordeal really is and if there’s anything else we can give her to entice her to be  _ slightly _ less abrasive,” he rolled his eyes, the world a perpetual amusement for his closest friend. 

“I’m quite sure she will rebuff my efforts to escort her again Rab,” Severus leveled tired eyes at him.

“Well, then don’t. Let her.  _ See _ you. I wouldn’t be so insistent if it weren’t necessary. You know Rodolphus will have my neck if anything  _ remotely _ questionable happens to her. He wants a clean match. Part of the appeal for him is apparently that she’s been so solitary. The girl hardly has any connections, he thinks she’ll be easier to mold into whatever the family needs her to be,” he grimaced in distaste. “I’m just trying to protect both of us from any whiff of scandal. Help a mate out?” he flashed his winning smile and puppy dog eyes up at the raven haired boy.

Severus rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes. I’ll accompany her. I doubt she’ll leave her common room at any rate. She hasn’t been on a single Hogsmeade weekend since term began.”

Rabastan clapped him on the back. “Thanks mate,” he said and stuck his hands in his pockets as he strolled away back down to the dungeons. 

******************

Pandora was having a very difficult time keeping her head up. This was the most recent in a string of evenings spent hunched over a desk at the back of the library. She should have gone up to the common room an hour ago but each time she’d tried to get close to the stairs, she had encountered a very persistent Gryffindor by the name of Aurelia Kingsley. She was like a dog with a bone...a cat with a bone? A mountain lion with a rabbit? A stalking predator with a rodent? …she really needed more sleep. 

If it wasn’t Aurelia, it was some group of Hufflepuffs or another. They always seemed to travel in a pack lately. Like she was suddenly the single most interesting person in the castle. Except with Severus and Rabastan. They seemed to have disapparated into thin air. It was most surely connected. 

Even Gertrude had taken to speaking to her more of late. When her last attempt at conversation had been met with Pandora’s wide, terrified eyes, she had awkwardly excused herself as Pandora gazed back, frozen. She liked Gertrude well enough, but she needed preparation for conversation. 

The only place she was left alone was the library or her bed with the curtains drawn. It was too early to tuck herself away completely. As much as she loved her solitude, even she could only take so much. She liked the  _ atmosphere _ of people around her. Quietly. Not near enough to talk to her. Or touch her.

Pandora rubbed at her eyes as she studied the latest book she’d been sent by Evan. When he stopped home to deal with some papers Father had failed to attend to, he gathered more books from the library for her. He had written the week prior to encourage her to keep investigating their roots. She hadn’t made much headway, and frankly felt rather despondent about the entire project, but she wouldn’t let Evan down without a thorough effort. 

The book in front of her was on the history of Jason and the Argonauts, but included a few interesting passages about her ancestors, specifically Madea. 

_ King Aeetes, keeper of the Golden Fleece and his Daughter Medea, the Princess of Colchis, became entwined with Jason and the Argonauts when he sought the Golden Fleece, that he might rightfully rule over the city of Iolcas, Thessaly. Jason was taught in secrecy by the centaur Chiron until he attempted to reclaim his throne, which had been stolen by his uncle Pelias. _

_ At the culmination of his quest, he was given a series of impossible tasks by Aeetes. Medea, under the influence of Eros, sent by her goddesses Athena and Hera, helped Jason in each task and eventually escaped with Jason and the Fleece on his journey back to Iolcas. There she convinced the daughters of Pelias to kill and cook their father, claiming he would gain youth and life ever-lasting. When it was clear she had tricked them, both Medea and Jason barely escaped the wrath of the people of Iolcas. Medea, betrayed by Jason who wished to marry Glauce, poisoned her wedding garments, killing both Glauce and her father Creon. Madea killed her sons by Jason and fled. _

_ The written account of Jason and the Argonauts was recorded by Apollonius of Rhodes. Parts of the story were attributed to a man named Theolonius. However, much of the embellished details came from his time in Anatolia and his hosts, the Melitene Family. The details were quite obviously embellished and manipulated to suit the dominant patriarchal society of his home.  _

As Pandora read, her tired eyes caught on the bottom of the page and she inhaled sharply. 

Why would someone...? 

“No, that’s not….that’s not how….no I don’t, we can’t  _ do _ that. You’re not supposed to  _ do _ that.” She stares down at the margin notes someone had scrawled into the precious tome. 

_ ***** Contrary to myth, Medea had  _ _ daughters _ _ , and performed a ritual with the blood of her two handmaidens(not her daughters), who she sacrificed, and brought her daughters away from her good for nothing husband. In place of the Golden Fleece, she left Jason with a transfigured goat skin. The true Golden Fleece was passed through matrilineal succession with great secrecy, until it landed in the hands of the Melitene family. Though several threads of the Fleece are known to have been lost to time***** _

  
  


Pandora’s agitation grew. Her hands shook with energy and she pressed the base of her palms into her eyes as she steadied her breath. 

“It’s a good note though. It’s accurate. But that’s what appendixes are for. If you wish to correct the account, an appendix should be added in a subsequent edition. Or reference a personal journal to notate the correction. Utterly ridiculous….what if I just…” she reached into her satchel, pulled out a sheaf of parchment and smoothed it out on the table, closing her eyes a moment to feel the cool, smooth texture beneath her fingertips, allowing it to settle her nerves. She took a deep breath in through her nose, and slowly let it out. In….Out....In…...Out 

Pandora cast a gentle _ tollere atramentum  _ to lift the ink from the page, but it seemed as though there was a very strong permanence charm on the notation. She seethed with indignation. 

And then decided that if someone had already deface the book once, she would at least  _ correct _ the correction. If there was no removing it, it may as well be accurate for any future Melitenes. 

_ *  _ _ who  _ **_willingly_ ** _ sacrificed themselves _

She noted with an asterisk drawn to reference Madea’s handmaidens. It was a very important detail in her mind as it made evident the devotion her handmaidens had to their mistress. They all served a higher purpose and though Madea had been influenced by Eros, she still did everything within her power to protect the Golden Fleece. 

That several threads had been taken from the Fleece was beyond regrettable, but to discount Madea’s sacrifice of her most beloved handmaidens as though she were an unfeeling monster was incredibly obtuse. She also knew that Madea spent the remainder of her life searching for the torn pieces of the Fleece to reassemble it all. She was still unsure what the breadth of the Fleece’s capabilities were, but she knew enough of its history to understand why it became the Melitene’s ancestral quest.

Pandora’s head drooped once more and she decided to risk a run-in with Aurelia or the other members of her recently established fan-club. She stood and pulled her satchel up to the table. As she gathered her inkwell and parchments together, she noticed movement on the page she had written on moments ago. Her eyes darted over the words forming on the page as she watched and she could barely believe what she was seeing.

_ ***Oh, I see. Well, I appreciate the additional information. Also, hello Pandora. About time you got around to this volume. Sorry about the notes. Detestable, I know. Needs must and all that.*** _

Pandora quickly slammed the book shut as though it had burned her. She gathered her things together and raced to her room as quickly as she could, eager to be away from any possible prying eyes. Her mind whirred with possibility as she ran up to her room.


	6. Drink in your summer, gather your corn; the dreams of the night time will vanish by dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora clacks her nails.
> 
> Severus contemplates his hair.
> 
> James makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barely edited, pretty sure there are inconsistencies. Please let me know if you notice them.   
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I don't own *any* of the original works nor the characters.

Chapter 6

Later, in the privacy of her room, curtains drawn, privacy wards cast, Pandora stared at the book in front of her on her bed. As tired as she had been half an hour ago, she was wide awake now. Though she’d carried this book around with her for the last week with no ill effect, she couldn’t bring herself to open it again. It must not be a curse or hex because she hadn’t been affected previously. But she’d spent enough hours listening to the warnings from each of her family members on the dangers of magical books.

She knew better than most that a book didn’t need to be cursed to harm you. It could be a demon. It could be a ghost trapped within the pages, unable to become corporeal. It could be a harmless prank from some long-forgotten jokester relative. Imbue an object with a bit of a sentience spell, a light empathic bonding charm, and a piece of parchment could tell you what your name was and whether you’d had mash or roasties for dinner the previous evening. 

So Pandora stared at the tome lying in front of her. She clacked her nails together nervously and chewed at her shirt collar. She debated the merits of opening the book again without informing anyone else of her circumstances. It was a mild risk, but her roommates would surely find her if something truly terrible happened. And it was highly unlikely at any rate. She’d cast several diagnostic spells to determine the relative safety and they’d come up with nothing. It seemed by all appearances to be a perfectly normal book. 

In case something awful did happen when she opened it again, she let her privacy wards fall momentarily. If she could get a scream out quickly enough, at least one of her three other sleeping dorm mates should rouse enough to get her to the infirmary. Pandora took a deep breath and cracked the book again, cautiously awaiting any tingle of magic or shift in the air. When nothing changed, she sifted through the pages to find the one with the margin notes. It still incensed her, but at least it made slightly more sense now. Or it would. Once she figured it out. The same words stared back at her. Nothing had changed in the time she’d spent in internal debate. 

Pandora summoned her inkwell from her nightstand and drew her ostrich quill from her hair. Her white-blond waves fell down as she dipped the quill in the floating inkwell beside her. She carefully tapped away the excess ink and tentatively placed her hand next to the notes in the margin. In delicate script, she wrote:

*What are you?*

And then she waited. 

It seemed as though nothing would happen. Perhaps it was simply a one-off prank as she suspected. The spell only held enough power, having waited through the years, to play the trick once and then it dissipated. Those sorts of charms required renewing or a very strong caster. Even then, they’d only last perhaps a hundred years. And she couldn’t see her arriere grand-mere as the type for such levity at the cost of defacing a book. 

After several long minutes of nothing, she closed the book. It appeared settled. She had tested the theory and nothing had come of it. She should put the mystery to bed. As well as herself, for that matter. Too many nights of too little sleep. She was sure to be irritable tomorrow. Though she doubted her classmates would notice. They seemed to lump all of her emotions together and assumed her constantly annoyed, though she rarely was. Not really. Just quiet. 

Pandora banished her ink and quill to her desk and tucked the book into the drawer of her nightstand. She could investigate further at a later date. But tomorrow was a Hogsmeade weekend and she had other plans to set into motion. 

***********************

Severus looked in the mirror of his shared lavatory and sneered. Practice makes perfect of course. It wasn’t that he was overly vain, though he did occasionally wish potions work were less...effervescent. It tended to stick in the hair. But the son of the Noble House of Prince did not cut his hair. The Princes had been wearing their hair in the same style since the courts of Louis XIV. Not that they ever prescribed to the wigs so popular of the time, but that was the luxury afforded to the wizarding royalty (or as close as the prescribed to a monarchical reign), which orbited around the various courts. Picking at will, styles and customs like a niffler in a Duchess’s boudoir. Eleanor and Ferdinand Prince favored the aesthetics of “last great muggle monarchy” as their forebears had before them. 

And Severus Sebastian Snape Prince would not risk his grandparents’ good opinion, little as it was bestowed, on something as unimportant as his appearance. Even if it was a bit...greasy. So he tied it back as neatly as he could, in a simple black ribbon with almost imperceptible silver filigree running along the edges. A gift from Rabastan last Yule. 

He straightened his waistcoat, checking his watch, and slid on his slate morning coat to match his ascot. He set out to keep an eye on Pandora for the day as his friend had requested. 

***********************

Severus made his way through the bright, green-hued glow of the common room, and out the portrait hole. He climbed the stairway to the main floor and happened upon Pandora quietly slipping out to the carriages to Hogsmeade. It was earlier than most students made their way down to the village, and he had never seen her go to Hogsmeade once in the many months he’d observed her. His interest piqued, he shadowed her and boarded a carriage to follow the lone one trundling down the snowy path. 

When he arrived at the edge of the village, he noted Pandora walking swiftly toward Scrivenshaft’s. The shopkeepers were still in the process of placing their marquees on the sidewalks and raising the awnings to ward off the coming snow later in the day. Several tradespeople built up street-side displays to attract the students that would soon swarm the village in search of Yule gifts.

He strolled up the street, keeping an eye on the stationary shop’s door. The quiet morning air rousing with each shop shutter opening and conversations struck up between the villagers. The birds called to one another beyond the buildings, and searched for the last of the jostaberries and blackcurrants clinging to their bushes. Madame Rosmerta struggled to hang mistletoe on the latticework at the base of the oriel windows above the tavern. Severus crossed the street to offer his assistance and reached up to affix the garlands below the windows with a sticking charm. Rosmerta smiled at him, “You’ve grown into quite the gentleman, Mr. Snape.”

“It is no trouble Madame,” he demurred and nodded as he turned his glance back to Scrivenshaft’s. Noting the time on his pocket watch, he crossed the main road again and peered into the quill store. His eyes narrowed as he saw no sign of his mark. He looked up and down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the willowy blonde once again. 

Sighing in exasperation, he stuffed his watch back into his waistcoat and strolled along the storefronts, glancing casually into each as he went. If he didn’t know better, he would think Pandora had a particular magical talent for evasion, though he never detected obfuscation charms near her as she disappeared from his presence. The clamor of the street grew as a procession of carriages arrived up the hill. He ducked off to the sidewall of Madame Puddifoot's where he had a good view of all the most frequented shops along the road. From his pocket, he drew a hand-rolled cigarette and flicked his fingers at it to light the tip. 

As he stood, people-watching and keening his eyes for his charge, Severus lost himself in the soothing mellow his specially herbed cigarette brought on. He was therefore, startled when from the side of him leading into the alleyway, a throat cleared.

“Spare one for me?” Pandora asked, raising her features in amusement at her ability to unsettle the fellow who had brought her so much consternation for the past few months. 

Severus looked her up and down and quirked an eyebrow in resignation. He withdrew another cigarette and handed it to her, flicking his fore and middle fingers back again to light the end as she inhaled deeply. Pandora held it in and allowed the smoke to drift through her lips in a practiced stream. 

“Never took you for a smoker,” Severus said as he took another drag.

“Nor I you,” she countered. “But you are a half-blood, are you not? I suppose you lot have more access to mass-market fags than the rest of us.”

His hackles raised incrementally at her supposition. Any attention drawn to his heritage tending to put him ill at ease. 

“Though, it would appear,” she took a long drag of the cigarette and cast her eyes up and to the left,”that these are home-brewed. Quite lovely. Thank you.”

He nodded in deference and took another pull of his own cigarette. 

“Since it appears to be your occupation once again to trail me today, why don’t we make it simpler and go the way together?” she said as a twinkle shone in her bright green and gold flecked eyes.

“If you like,” Severus said and flicked the last of his cigarette to the ground, toeing it into the snow with his polished boot. He cast a quick scourgify on his hands and gestured for her to proceed before him as she snubbed her own cigarette into the slush. Her fingers flicked away in their own cleansing charm and she strolled down the sidewalk toward the Three Broomsticks. 

Her quick steps easily matched Severus’ own long strides though her legs were much shorter. She walked, as she always seemed to, with purpose and intensity. Where his own pace generally lagged in deference to his usually slighter companions and the ability to better observe his surroundings. Pandora slipped quietly through the door to the pub and purposefully walked over to the counter where Madame Rosmerta stood, cleaning the bartop. 

“May I have cranberry juice and a,” she paused, surveying Severus for a moment, “ an espresso and a water if you will.” Pandora beamed up at the bar mistress and swished over to an empty table. The seating was still mostly empty this early in the day, and she settled herself into a corner near the windows, primed for people watching both in and out of the pub. Severus was not precisely keen on being seated with his back to the entire room, and so pulled the chair to face out toward the window, angling it away from the tables now behind him. 

Madame Rosmerta set the drinks on the table along with waters for both of them. Pandora took delicate sips of her juice as she watched Severus cautiously taste the espresso. His eyes brightened and he took a deeper sip. She smiled at her companion, and toasted silently with her own cup.

“I was not aware that Madame Rosmerta made such a fine cup of coffee,” Severus remarked.

“Well, she doesn’t exactly advertise, but Evan always did enjoy a fine roast in the Italian tradition. I haven’t been here much since he left, but I thought you might enjoy one as well,” she said.

“Indeed,” he took another measured sip, contemplating the girl in front of him.

“What else is on the agenda today, Miss Rosier?”

“Shopping, sweets, mischief,” her eyes twinkled back at him.

Severus momentarily narrowed his gaze at her. Pandora Rosier was never quite what he expected her to be. As soon as he thought he had the measure of her, she flitted away, like a moth drawn away by a more interesting glow elsewhere. 

“Mischief.” Severus drew a mouthful of sparkling water before taking another sip of the espresso and was delighted at the renewed burst of flavor as he did. Though his features remained as implaccable as ever, he noted how well Pandora was able to read him.

Pandora nodded secretly. “Mischief.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement and heard the door opening on the other end of the pub. A clatter of voices came through the door and he saw James Potter’s trademark halo of curls, as well as Sirius Black’s silken black locks. To his other side, he missed the impish smirk that crossed Pandora’s lips. 

The quartered ordered their butterbeers and tumbled between the tables, playing at some boyish game, hitting one another back and forth in a show of supposed masculinity. Severus looked to them, apathetic to their childish antics, and turned back to his companion. 

“And what other shopping have we to do today?” Severus asked

“I thought I might stop by the Neep and pick up a few dirigible plums. I’m quite fond of them, you know,” she said.

“They are particularly useful,” Severus agreed.

“Hmm,” Pandora noted, taking a last sip of her juice, “You might try increasing your consumption of them. I believe they would do you quite a bit of good,” she responded cryptically. 

“Truly,” he said skeptically, knowing full well the purported properties of the fruit. He simply enjoyed the flavor and thought they were quite helpful in certain potions. 

Pandora glanced inward toward the gathering crowd around James. Her look drew Severus’ attention and he huffed in derision at the loud group and their growing coterie of sycophants. 

As they looked, Sirius took notice and elbowed James to take notice. Laughing, he looked over to the corner where they sat. A cloud passed over his face and he excused himself from the group, walking menacingly over to Severus and squaring his shoulders.

“Bothering poor Dory again Snivillus?” he shot at the dark haired boy below him.

“I believe you are the intruder here, Potter,” he spat out the boy’s surname.

Pandora’s lip twitched in amusement and she stood, dusting an invisible speck off her pale green woolen cardigan.

“I believe I have some errands to run, I shall be seeing you James,” she smiled demurely, casting her eyes to the side. 

Severus drew himself up to his full height as he pulled the chair back to usher Pandora away from the confrontation. She nodded her thanks and swept out of the pub, her cerulean robes rippling behind her, as Severus angled himself around to open the door. 

As soon as they stepped into the street, James nipped at their heels with Sirius and Peter close behind. Pandora’s pace drew them swiftly away from crowds making their way to the warmth of the pub as snow fell more quickly onto the cloaks milling through the town. At a disused side street, Pandora made an abrupt halt and faced James and his gang with a crackling energy. 

“I don’t know what you think you are doing James Potter. But you may stop now. I am in no need of a chaperone. From either you or anyone else,” she narrowed her eyes meaningfully to the boys behind her oldest acquaintance. “In fact, I think it might just be a perfect time for you to gather your on-lookers and leave me to my business,” she said as the boys took notice of the gaggle of girls doing a very poor job of hiding their interest in James Potter’s antics.

“Perhaps if you left me to my own devices, you might be able to better entertain your own interests,” Pandora quickly glanced down to where Lily Evans had stopped near Honeydukes to watch the escalation. 

Predictably, Potter swiveled his head back to see the redhead and her friends watching him and dug into the altercation.

“I won’t let this twat harass you any longer Dory. I know you must not realize what he and his friend are doing, but I swore to Evan I would protect you. And I keep my promises,” James said, puffing out his chest at her tall companion.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing James? Because it appears to me that you’re doing what you always do. Making. this. about. You, “ she shot back at him, keeping Evans in her periphery.

“Perhaps you misunderstood Evan. Because he is well aware of my capabilities and awareness of my own limitations. And this,” she nodded to Severus, “is not beyond them. I imagine if you had once had an actual conversation with me instead of rolling over every other word I say, you might be aware of that as well,” she said calmly, though Severus noted that her hands had begun to shake in agitation and her bootheel tapped nervously into the ground, beginning to shake her left leg. 

“The lady has requested you to leave her,” Severus interjected. “See that you do, Potter.”

James’ pride had been peaked and nothing could currently de-escalate the situation, as Pandora was quite aware. If one had looked into her eyes at that moment, they might have noticed a triumphant gleam through her nervous affectations. 

James drew his wand on Severus and pointed menacingly.

“You and your friend are the reason for all of this Snivillus,” he said.

“Do you know that Pandora came to me sobbing over being relentlessly harassed by the both of you? Do you know that she is fragile? She is not a toy for you and your sadistic House to torment. She will break. And I won’t stand for it.”

“I think you mistake an intellectual spirit for weakness,” Severus replied, having drawn his own wand and keeping it at his side, pointed downward. “It is unsurprising considering the dullness of your own wits. Merlin help me but you are dense Potter,” he goaded as he angled himself further into the street and around the gathering crowd.

“Oh yes, intellectual pursuits,” James scoffed. “Like trailing after your best friend like a leering erkling constantly? We all know that if the Lestranges hadn’t involved themselves in the Rosiers’ affairs, you’d have been left in the dust one way or another after he’d found a bride,” he laughed. “ He was never going to pay you any more mind than an infestation of gnomes. You’ll certainly never be tending his gardens.”

Severus inhaled sharply and closed the distance between the two of them, “You forget yourself Potter,” he loomed over the only other boy, his wand twitching in his hand.

James dragged his eyes over the pale boy’s face cockily and huffed. 

“Perhaps then, Snivillus, you can remind me.”

No one could be sure later where the first curse came from, but the air between the boys erupted in sparks as stinging jinxes escalated quickly into flipendos. When James aimed an entomorphis at Severus, he was countered with a langlock hitting him squarely in the mouth. 

In the brief quiet, Severus swiftly cast a deprimo charm, opening up the ground between them with a deep trench. He followed with a non-verbal fumos, further obscuring himself from his attackers. Sirius leapt around the hole and dissipated the fog permeating the area. His lithe body ducked beneath an immobulus cast his direction and he shouted “Exsilio Humores!” at Severus.

Severus’ nose began to spew a thick yellow pus and, thoroughly distracted, he failed to counter the next spell James aimed at him as the air cleared.

A slight madness alighting his eyes, James shouted, “Confrigo!”

Pandora’s eyes went wide as she saw the fire consume Severus and the smell and scream hit her all at once. Her entire being stilled briefly before shaking uncontrollably, watching helplessly as James realized what he had done. 

The whole world stopped. Which is not to say it felt like the whole world stopped.

Time stopped.

And as she gazed longer at the face of regret and horror in front of her, she cast her eyes aside to see the fire engulfing Severus had frozen. 

Pandora blinked slowly. With shaking hands, she moved toward the flames and tentatively reached out to Severus. She drew her hand back with a hiss as the fire singed her fingertips. 

She looked around in confusion at the entire village, frozen in the moment she had inwardly screamed for everything to stop. While she could not utter a word, her mind having temporarily shut off any verbalizing, she sifted through the feeling only moments before and reached out with her magic. She had felt deep fear but also power in the core of her being. Stripping away the layers of shock and fear, shoving them into the requisite filing cabinets of her mind, she felt the calm she so often did in moments of trauma.

Her tongue flicking out over her lips, she clasped her hands in front of her and sat herself down on the cobblestones. She rocked back and forward, thinking through precisely the motions she had unconsciously performed during the fight. She closed her eyes and felt the movements flow down her fingers, distantly remembering the burns at the tips. As though feeling her way through a song, she twitched her hand one direction, then another and swiftly cracked her neck to one side and simultaneously clapping her hands as a rush of air released from her person.

All at once, the fight was happening again.

But it was the beginning. The ground was whole, the air was clear. Severus had yet to fire a hex or jinx. And everything seemed to happen in slow motion. 

Again, Pandora watched as James aimed a stinging jinx at Severus. With a sharp inhale, she jumped in front of him to prevent the horrible outcome from happening again. 

As she leapt between the two, James faltered, seeing her small frame taking the jinx he intended for Severus. He screamed in dismay and rushed to her before being halted by a death-glare Severus sent him as he caught the unconscious blonde in his arms. 

Thinking her fall to be entirely his fault, James looked in horror as Severus picked her up in both his arms and carried her through the street to the carriages. 

“I didn’t mea-” James began, chasing briefly after the raven-haired boy carrying his oldest friend.

Severus whipped his head back and silenced him again with a look. 

His quick steps echoed down the cobblestones as he carried the girl back to the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes for some made up things. Some by me, most by others.
> 
> *Erklings were elfish magical beasts, three feet tall on average (making them larger than gnomes) with pointed faces, which had a particular affinity for the taste of children  
> Taken directly from the HP wiki
> 
> * “Finally, the dirigible Plum, so as to enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary."  
> —Xenophilius Lovegood explains the elements of his replica of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem”.  
> From “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”, as seen on the HP wiki
> 
> *exsilio humores - my own rough translation for the pus-squirting hex, which causes yellowish goo to squirt from one’s nose. A basic translation of “squirt humors” as in the term “humors” used by medieval doctors.
> 
> I believe I gave enough context clues for the others, but if not also, please let me know and I shall elaborate!


	7. I listen to my words, but they fall far below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madam Pomfrey discusses narcotics
> 
> Pandora takes a quick trip to the library
> 
> Severus gets whiplash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own the original.  
> Be cooler if I did.  
> Cause then it wouldn't be owned by a transphobe.  
> But it is what it is.

Severus whipped through the hallways, letting the doors bang closed behind him as he moved swiftly to the infirmary, his overcoat billowing behind him. He held the slip of a girl in his arms as he barreled up the stairs. As he reached the doors of the Infirmary, he turned his back to them, kicking his boot behind him to thrust the doors inward. The noise of the double doors banging open drew Madam Pomfrey out of her office, stern eyes and pursed lips looking to find the source of the disturbance in her meticulously quiet ward. As she saw Severus carrying a girl in his arms she swept out her arm to the closest bed and took out her wand to cast a diagnostic spell. 

“What happened here Mr. Snape?” the witch asked, straightforward and practical as ever as she surveyed the points of light that now hovered over Pandora’s prone form. 

“We were in the village when someone struck her with a stinging hex intended for me. She fainted. I can’t say why,” he said, furrowing his brow as he studied the matron’s inspection.

“She fainted from a stinging hex?” Madam Pomfrey quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

“Indeed,” he emphasised.

“Nothing else? Had she perhaps ingested anything, eaten any unknown substances today?”

“No, we had just come from Madam Rosmerta’s where she had a cranberry juice and…” he trailed off as a cold dread settled in his stomach. Severus swallowed and cleared his throat as Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes knowingly, waiting.

“Well, she had a cigarette just a bit before.”

“A cigarette,” the matron cocked her head and gazed at Severus reprovingly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Severus cleared his throat again and glanced away from the disappointed stare. 

“They’re of my own concoction, though nothing illicit,” he hedged.

Her reproving stare broke momentarily with a shake of her head, she reached to the sideboard and withdrew a small piece of parchment and self-inking quill, which she pressed into his hands.

“I would appreciate if you would list the ingredients in these  _ cigarettes _ ,” she said, tilting her chin tersely toward a writing table near the window. 

Sufficiently chastised, Severus wrote the list of herbs he mixed with his tobacco and handed it back to Madam Pomfrey.

She surveyed the list and shook her head in dismissal. 

“Though I heartily disapprove of your use of tobacco  _ Mr. Snape _ , I do not believe that any of these herbs combined with a simple stinging hex were the cause of Ms Rosier’s distress.”

Severus released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and looked back to Madam Pomfrey. 

“I can’t know for certain what may have happened until she can speak with me, but I shall keep her here for observation until she comes around. I dislike using a renervate if unnecessary, and on an unknown medical issue. Ms Rosier does tend to be rather  _ delicate _ in my experience.”

“May I wait here with her until then?” Severus asked.

Her lips thinned again and she sniffed, “I suppose. I’m going to draw the curtain, but do not disturb her.”

“Thank you Madam Pomfrey,” Severus nodded his head deferentially, and waited for her to pass behind him and flick her wand to draw the curtains separating them from the rest of the ward. 

“Let me know as soon as she awakens,” the healer said primly, and made her way back to her desk.

Severus settled himself into the dark, wooden armchair at the side of the gurney. He dropped his head into his hands, propping himself up on his knees as he pulled at his hair. He angrily tore the ribbon from the back of his head and ran it along his fingers, thinking. 

He’d been so  _ stupid _ allowing Potter to goad him. He hadn’t thought quickly enough. Should have escorted Pandora away from the altercation. Why did Potter have to know  _ exactly _ how to press all his buttons. He was charged with taking care of Pandora. And she did such a fine job of seeming self-sufficient these past months, not needing anyone, he hadn’t realized that Potter’s indications of her condition might hold merit.

He hadn’t realized  _ how _ delicate she seemed to be. A  _ stinging hex _ . Salazar, what might have happened if she’d been hit by something more severe. How would Rabastan ever forgive him? 

He worried at the ribbon in his hands as he listened to the soft sound of Pandora’s breathing and let his thoughts spiral away into fatalistic self-flagellation.

********************

“Pandooooooraaa,” a voice crooned at her.

Two fingers snapped in front of her face, drawing her attention as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. As she blinked her eyes hard, clearing the blurriness from her vision, she saw a mass of chestnut hair in front of her face. It was truly enormous. And the woman it belonged to had a button nose on a warm, honey brown heart-shaped face. Her big, brown eyes peered into Pandora’s soft greenish grey. They sparkled with warmth and mischief. 

Pandora wondered briefly if she was of fairy heritage. But there were no wings, no glimmer. Pandora stared back at her mutely. Taking in her radiant, clever face. 

“I was beginning to think you might never come around,” the woman said.

Pandora cleared her throat, trying to find her voice instead of just staring dumbly back at the vision in front of her.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Hermione Granger, though I wouldn’t mention the last name to anyone as it may interfere with the timeline more than we already have,” she said and crinkled her nose a bit. Cutely. Sweetly. Pandora could kiss that nose.

She shook her head to bring herself back to the matter at hand. “Finally? You speak as though you know me somehow?” Pandora drifted off curiously.

“Oh, well yes. We do. We will. We have. That is to say, yes. We do,” Hermione finished with a decisive nod that only served to confuse Pandora more.

“Excuse me?” she asked helplessly.

“Here, let me help you up,” the brown eyed girl said as she stood from where she’d been kneeling beside Pandora and offered her hand out to her. Pandora sat up and took her hand as they hoisted her smaller form from the ground. The floor? She noted the grain of wood and antique Morrocan carpets stretching along the pathways as her eyes traveled upward. And then she noticed the bookshelves and her eyes went wide.

“Are we home? In  _ my _ home, I mean?”

Hermione took a deep, satisfied breath in. Like she was inhaling the essence of the books surrounding them. The endless shelves of books that stretched far above their heads to the vaulted ceilings painted by generations of Rosiers past. The ambient magical lighting of the underground library warmed the otherwise dark wood. The sconces along the main path flickered behind protective charms that never let their fire or smoke touch the precious pages settled near them. 

“How exactly…? I mean, when did I…” she trailed off. She felt simultaneously at ease and uncomfortable. She was in her favorite place in the world. Home. In the actual Rosier library. The one that went on for ages. And she had no idea how she’d gotten there or who this lovely woman in front of her was. 

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll need your help finding...yes, this way I think,” Hermione started and cantered off quickly down one of the stacks. Her fingers grazed the books, dancing nimbly like she was playing an instrument as she passed the rows.

Pandora stared after her for a moment before she hopped to catch up to her before she disappeared around a corner. 

“You see, we’ve met, but barely. I’m you, but I’m not, well sort of,” the honeyed angel of a woman said as she drifted through stack after stack, leading them down to the private collections kept under strong stasis spells. 

“Wait, I’m you? I mean… _ you’re me? _ ” Pandora tried to grasp at the whisps of conversation the woman threw back at her.

“So, we made a connection.  _ I _ made a connection. When you read the journal,” the woman said as though that explained the whole lot.

“And you’re me? But not?” the blonde asked desperately.

“Yes.”

“And how is that?” she asked, beginning to lose her grasp on sanity the longer their exchange went.

“Oh,” Hermione seemed to realize how cryptic she’d been,” Well, when you saw me in the journal, I’ve waited quite a long time by the way, except I haven’t actually, not really… anyway, when you saw me in the journal, you were able to contact the psychic imprint I managed to leave. Your work really, allowed me to leave it in the first place, but I modified the time spell a bit to allow a small piece of myself to remain. Just a wisp really. Nothing dark, like a horcrux,” the woman said, a small shudder running through her.

Pandora stumbled over her feet, hearing the word. 

“A  _ horcrux?! _ Morgana, what did I contact? What  _ are _ you?” she became agitated, half terror, half fury rising in her chest.

“No, no, I said it’s _ not _ a horcrux. Do keep up, I know you’re clever as I am, perhaps more,” she said with a shrug. 

“Oh, here it is,” Hermione said as she abruptly halted in an alcove. She scanned the books determinedly, her fingers doing that dancing thing once more, pointing and dismissing books just as quickly. 

“So, we made a connection. I apparently know time spells. And this is...not linear? I’ve met you in the future?” Pandora tried to thread the pieces of conversation together as the woman seemed absorbed in her hunt.

“Precisely!” she affirmed as she drew a journal from the shelf.

“So, are we even here? Is this the future? The past? Somewhere else?”

“Yes, I think  _ somewhere else _ would be an apt descriptor,” the woman beamed, turning on Pandora and shoving the book into her chest before going back to her hunt.

Pandora rolled her eyes at the inability to get a straight answer from Hermione. 

“And you’re here to…” she trailed off.

“Help you, of course. Though really, it’s just you helping yourself if we’re being clear.”

Pandora huffed. “Yes, clarity would be quite the boon here.”

Hermione simply hummed in agreement, missing the implication. 

Pandora ran through the winding, unhelpful conversation and worked at the edges of the puzzle in front of her.

“ So. You’re really me, but a piece of someone else. Who I  _ met _ when I started reading and subsequently interacted with the journal of my arriere grand-mere. And you’re here to show me something. Wherever  _ here _ is. I haven’t yet learned time spells of any use, so that’s right out, must happen at some time... _ other _ . And it seems very important I have access to whatever information you intend to show me...in my  _ memories _ ?” she thought aloud. “I haven’t been back here since I was small. I certainly never told anyone I’d been back here as Mother would have used the cruciatus on me had she known.”

“Oh, yes, terribly sorry about your mother. She’s been terribly unhelpful thus far. All this would have been so much easier if she weren’t such a  _ bitch, _ ” Hermione huffed.

Pandora sputtered and attempted to suppress a laugh at the verbalization of all her inner thoughts about her mother. 

“But it worked out in the end,” Hermione went on. “Or it will. I- _ we _ hope anyway.”

“And the purpose of this is…” she asked.

“ To fix the timeline of course.”

“Of course,” Pandora deadpanned.

“And we really are out of time. Terribly sorry I can’t stay longer. But  _ you _ really need to get back. Severus will be wondering if you’re alright. He seems quite stoic, but he really is a teddy bear underneath all those barbs,” Hermione said almost apologetically, settling another journal into Pandora’s arms, which now groaned with the weight of all the books Hermione had thrust into them as they’d spoken.

“You do  _ need _ him. I promise. You can’t do it alone. He and Rabastan both. Let them be there. Let them  _ in _ ,” she implored.”I know it’s difficult. I’ve had to do it too. But really it’s not so bad. Needing people. They don’t  _ all _ abandon you,” her eyes softened. Pandora could get lost in those honey brown eyes and halo of kinky chestnut hair for ages.

“Now, take note of all these. I know that mind of yours will sort it all out. And I’ll try my hardest to keep the connection. I’m not quite gifted in time spells, but I do try. I have a fantastic teacher and confidant, after all,” she finished, winking at Pandora.

Pandora glanced down at the stack of books in her arms and took a mental picture. Thanking her eidetic memory once again, even if it did fill her head so frequently with  _ too much _ information to sort through. 

Hermione leaned in and glanced a kiss on her cheek, the scent of freesia enveloping her senses, causing Pandora to blush furiously.

Her warm smile was all she was left with as she heard a voice far away “I love you.”

She furrowed her brow, looking around and behind her. The library faded into nothingness again and her world went swirly, colors dancing together into nothing and everything.

************************

“I love you, and you’ve no idea,” a rumbling voice intoned near her.

Pandora’s eyes blinked hard as she reached a hand up to wipe at the blurriness preventing her from seeing the person to her side.

“You love me?” she asked groggily.

“What?” a confused baritone answered, then she felt a body rise next to her and above her she saw black hair falling around the face of Severus Snape.

“You’re awake,” he sounded relieved. “You should remain lying down,” he pressed a firm palm to her shoulder as she moved to sit up.

“Did you say you love me?” she asked, her gaze narrowing in consternation.

“What?” he asked again, surprised she’d heard him. 

“No, of course not. We barely know each other,” he said gruffly. “ Aside from that, you are Rabastan’s betrothed. What a ridiculous notion,” he scoffed.

She shook her head, clearing the cobwebs from her mind. Looking around, she noted that she was in the infirmary. From the other end of the room, she heard movement and Madam Pomfrey bustled into her corner, moving the curtain to the side as she did. 

“Hello dear,” she said as she cast a diagnostic spell over her.

“Can you tell me what you last remember?” the matron peered down at her. Severus stood back, looking cautious and somewhat uncomfortable.

“I was in the street,” she replied, sifting through her more recent memories and keeping them to herself.

“There was a fight and I tried to stop the two idiots from avada’ing one another,” she said.

Madam Pomfrey gave a reproachful look back to Severus, who pointedly averted his gaze out the window.

“Yes, and you were hit with a stinging hex, I believe Mr Snape said,” she replied. “Any idea why that made you faint my dear? I understand you have certain  _ sensitivities _ , though I haven’t seen you so frail as to faint from a stinging hex before.”

“Well,” Pandora hedged. She tried to think of something to distract Madam Pomfrey from her investigation of the burst of chronomancy Pandora had obviously experienced in the village. She’d never been terribly good at lying, especially when put on the spot. 

The matron seemed to take her hesitation for an attempt to hide something else and eyed her shrewdly.

“Yes, I have been made aware that you partook in one of Mr Snape’s  _ cigarettes _ . I don’t approve of them, but I can’t say that I haven’t seen plenty of students poisoning their bodies before and I imagine I’ll see plenty of you doing so in the future. Do try to avoid anything that may  _ trigger _ your particular issues though, please my dear.” 

Pandora shrank into the bed, chastened. She was thankful the matron had misinterpreted her hesitation, but she had never taken criticism of any kind well.

“It’s not as though it’s something I do  _ all _ the time,” she said meekly.

“Well, at any rate, I expect you to take better care of yourself Miss Rosier.”

“Everything appears to be within normal metrics, so I will allow you to leave once you feel up to it,” Madam Pomfrey said. The healer sniffed in Severus’ direction and went back to her desk, organizing parchment while keeping an ear out for the pair.

Severus cleared his throat and shifted closer to the side of Pandora’s prone body. 

“I would like to assist you in returning to your dormitory if you will allow me,” he said.

“Umm, yes,” she looked into her lap, where she circled her fingers into one hand. She thought of the words Hermione had left her with moments ago and felt awkward at his overture of kindness. “Yes, that would be alright.”

Severus studied her demeanor, sensing something had shifted since their morning together. Her accent had thickened from her soft RBA to something more lilting. He almost found it adorable. He had noted it only once before when she’d yelled at him and Rabastan. It seemed to lilt more when she was passionate or overwhelmed. Curious.

Pandora cleared her throat and made to get down from the bed. Severus held his hand out and politely looked away as she swung her legs down, her skirt shifting upward. The flash of her thigh caused the smallest intake of breath as he focused on the extraordinarily interesting grain of wood on the side-board. 

She hopped off and took her hand back, smoothing down the wrinkles in her skirt and lifting her blazer from where it rested at the end of the bed. She gathered her bag and hesitantly walked toward the door, waiting a moment to allow Severus to come to her side.

They passed through the halls in silence. Words unsaid hung between them, and neither seemed to know how to revisit the easy conversation they’d enjoyed that morning.

When they reached the door to Ravenclaw tower, Severus paused, his hands held behind his back.

Looking at him with fresh eyes, the words from her dreams lingering in the front of her mind, he  _ was _ quite handsome. At least as handsome as Rabastan, but in a more introspective way. She remained quiet as she studied his face and Severus seemed to grow as uncomfortable as she was placid.

His eyes darted away and he cleared his throat.

“I would like to apologize. I shouldn’t have allowed you to be endangered by my thoughtless actions today,” he said.

“What? Oh, it was fine.  _ I’m _ fine,” she said, surprised, as though she ‘d already forgotten the events in the village.

“Yes, but you very easily could have  _ not _ been fine. And that was my responsibility. At which I failed,” he said seriously. “I had not realized how fragile your condition was, and for that I apologize and must ask your forgiveness, just as I will ask it of Rabastan when I see him,” he finished gravely.

“What?” she asked, somewhat alarmed. “I’m not  _ fragile _ ,” she scowled at the word. “I’m...different. But not  _ fragile _ . Bloody hate that word. Fecking  _ fragile _ . Everyone thinks I’m  _ fragile _ . You know, that’s the one thing I’m not still sad Evan’s here for. Reminding me and everyone else, all the teachers, the staff, the bloody shopkeepers how  _ fragile _ I am,” she became more impassioned as she went on. 

“You know, he was - is - terribly helpful. And he’s a good brother. And it is rather helpful for the staff to know my...peculiarities,” she shook her head, glancing away from Severus at the words, as though she could will them out of existence if she simply ignored them enough.

“But that doesn’t mean he was always correct either. I  _ am capable _ . He tried to shelter me. And, understandably given certain circumstances we’ve experienced. However, that does not mean that he  _ or you,  _ **_or Rabastan_ ** for that matter, need to protect me from the fecking  _ world _ . I will not  **break** . I am not a piece of fine porcelain. I am not an ancient tome of hand-hewn papyrus, needing infinite stasis spells and restoration charms,” she paced up and down the hallway as her voice increased in volume and her arms danced at her sides.

Several students passed, excusing themselves to move around them into the tower. Severus gave a polite, if uncomfortable nod to them as he shifted to allow them to pass. Pandora seemed completely oblivious as she ranted at him and he took a deep breath, ready to accept whatever reproach she threw.

“And honestly! A **stinging jinx**?! You genuinely think a _stinging jinx_ is what caused me to faint and remain unconscious for over an hour?” she huffed. “Really, Severus, I thought you were the clever one.”

Severus bristled at the barb and drew himself taller, nearing his limit of being at the receiving end of Pandora’s ire. He drew in a deep breath as he attempted to remain patient with the witch who had been through so much already that day.

“It had nothing to do with you. I mean, if a stinging jinx felled me, I’d have passed the veil years ago in my very own home. Let alone the godsdamned cruciatus,”she seemed to be talking to herself, but Severus’ interest peaked at the casual mention of an unforgivable. He knew other pureblood families had fewer qualms about certain dark magic, but rarely had he heard it mentioned so casually. He nervously glanced up and down the hallway to ensure there were no other passing students, and was relieved to find it entirely empty.

“Well, anyway. It was really nothing to do with you, Severus. Rather self-absorbed to think it is really. I don’t know how your grandparents raised you, but I do try to be aware of others feelings. Confusing as they may be, nonsensical though they seem, we must  _ try _ ,” she drifted back down the hallway, peering into the tapestries lining the walls. 

It was the absolute most he’d heard her speak the entire time he’d held her acquaintance and he was somewhat entranced. He trailed her, both to keep an eye on her until she was safely within her tower, and curious as to how long she would go on.

“Well, if she was right, I suppose I must try with you as well. And that’s truly the crux of the matter. I don’t make friends particularly well Severus,” his attention was once again drawn by her casual,  _ familiar _ use of his first name. It was as though her mouth changed the shape of it. It sounded entirely different when she uttered it. There was a quality of  _ knowing _ he could not place in her voice.

“Anyhow, I really must go and wash the day away,” she said, abruptly turning and marching back to the tower entrance. As she pulled the door open, she threw back at him, “And Severus, be a dear and don’t blame yourself. I suppose it would be fruitless to ask that you not mention all this to Rabastan either, hmm?” her eyes narrowed at him. She tilted her head back, seeming to find the answer she sought, shrugged and disappeared through the door.

Severus was going to get  _ whiplash _ watching after this girl.

He was  _ thoroughly  _ unsettled.

And he still needed to relay the day’s events to Rabastan. Tomorrow. 

Today, he would retreat to the Slytherin common room and attempt to regain a small piece of his sanity. Scattered though it was.


End file.
